


I Pull My Hat Down Low

by Trotter



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Friends to Lovers, Jeonghan is a cardigan-wearing badass, M/M, Seokmin wears leather and cries a lot, side gyuhao - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-10 04:21:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 30,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14729846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trotter/pseuds/Trotter
Summary: At nineteen years old, Lee Seokmin wasn't anything special: gangly-limbed and nervous, he heaved around a guitar that kept getting stuck in closing train doors and bumping into people. He was a cheerful kid, but he'd have been a lot happier if the only open seat in his train hadn't been next to the most beautiful boy in the world.Jeonghan, twenty-one and the beautiful boy in question, watched his noisy approach with growing dismay.He didn't need some smiley rockstar to be his friend.





	1. run to you

 

_Say, Jeonghan-hyung. Do you remember how we met?_

_You used to laugh at me when I called it fate, but that’s what it was, you know. Everything that happened afterward was our fault. But that first time, that first chance—that was a miracle._

 

Seokmin’s train chugged to the station a few hours before the sun rose, the chill of morning frost on tree leaves shaken off by the weight of songbirds, the people in his village beginning to file out of their houses and into the streets. Seokmin had only dropped off to sleep three hours ago, but he had Mingyu to remind Minghao to remind Soonyoung to give him a wakeup call, and when it came Seokmin’s whole body jerked up, all the way awake even before Soonyoung had finished bellowing  _bureora hurricane_. When Soonyoung called again in thirty minutes to check on him he had washed, dressed and already broken a nervous sweat, pacing around the room practicing his English.

“Seoul isn’t a foreign country,” he said, bemused by the shambles Seokmin was in. “Just speak like a normal person, you mouse. And are you really planning on dressing up as an animal on your first day?”

Seokmin looked down at his zebra print shirt uncertainly. “I thought it looked cool.”

Soonyoung cast him a speaking look and, sighing, Seokmin began to pull it off his head.

“Better,” he said, after Seokmin had changed. "Man, you’re still such a baby.” Looking down, almost to himself, he mumbled: “So cute.”

Explosions in Seokmin's chest. He bit the inside of his cheek, thrilled but not wanting to show it. 

“Wait till I get there,” he said, all promise. “I’ve grown up a lot, you’ll see.”

 

There wasn’t really a lot to say about Seokmin at nineteen years old, and nothing at all that wasn’t said at first glance: gangly-limbed and scared, he heaved around a guitar that kept getting stuck in closing train doors and trying to talk to dogs that wanted nothing to do with him. His friends called him an open book with a lot of pictures. Those friends worried about him a lot.

The way he left his little hometown was different from how he’d pictured it in all of those nineteen years. Mingyu and Minghao weren’t there to see him off, for one thing, because they’d left for Seoul a year ago with promises that they’d all be together soon, so there was no one but his grandmother to pat his head and dry his tears before he boarded.

She adjusted his jacket sternly, leaving Seokmin to fidget under her touch. “Worry about practical things. Big cities eat up boys like you. Don’t think people will be kind as you are.”

“People are still people, grandma,” Seokmin said. He laugh-sobbed a little when she stuffed bread in his mouth, and chewed. “Seoul isn’t a foreign country. I need to catch up with the others as fast as I can.”

“Toughen up that soft heart of yours first,” she said, worry evident now that they were so close, and Seokmin was still teary. “If it’s too hard, it’s okay to rest. Come back home any time you like.”

“I love you,” he told her, very earnestly, before he took off, and received a fond squeeze of his cheek and a tight hug in exchange.

“Now go, before you miss your train. I’ll send your boxes over next week.”

Maybe the reason she didn’t say anything was because there was nothing she could have said to stop him; _Seoul, Seoul_ had been the song on Seokmin’s lips since Soonyoung first left, breaking up their little group of four, taking Seokmin’s heart with him. When Mingyu and Minghao left six months later for Seoul University, it was all he could do to restrain himself until he found a way in of his own. Almost two years, three part time jobs and a grainy virtual audition later, he was accepted by an entertainment agency as a band trainee by a CEO who raised his eyebrows, first at his clothes, then, more flatteringly, at his singing. After that it was just a matter of buying himself a one-way ticket; all his stuff had been packed and sealed and Mingyu-approved ages ago.

He texted Soonyoung: _I’m on the train now!!!_

He looked around for a seat while he waited for a reply. Living in Seoul for two years hadn’t really done anything for how bad with technology Soonyoung was, but waiting for his laboriously typed ASCII rabbits was half the fun.

It was then that he realized that he was attracting stares; the train wasn’t crowded but it was filling up quickly, and his guitar, hanging at his back like an unwieldy turtle shell, was drawing attention. Most of the commuters were middle-aged office-goers who looked at him like he was some kind of delinquent; Seokmin was fervently thankful that Soonyoung had talked him out of the zebra print shirt. He scuttled quickly up to the top of the car, ignoring everyone as best as he could, looking around—

—and froze.

The prettiest boy in the world was looking up at him from an empty seat, one eyebrow arched in an expression Seokmin had never seen before. A real-life model. An actor, maybe. Certainly there was a grace in him that set him apart from ordinary people no matter how plainly dressed he was, obvious in the way his legs were crossed at the ankle, the sweep of his bangs over his pale forehead. His long lashes cast lazy shadows on his cheeks when he blinked.

It was his hair, Seokmin thought, that was the prettiest of all. If he had seen boys with hair as long as _this,_ they probably belonged to the headbanging rockstars-to-be that he ran into at concert halls. _None_ of them could have ever looked like this boy. His hair tumbled down to his shoulders like it had been carefully fitted to frame his lovely pale face. The color was an undyed brown, but not like any brown Seokmin was used to—maybe it was russet, or chocolate, and it shone under the bad lighting of the train.

When he looked up, he had to brush some of his hair away and tuck it behind his ear, and that—for all the morning chill that was hanging to his clothes—made Seokmin blush hot.

“The seat’s open,” the boy murmured, and his voice was clear and sweet. When Seokmin didn’t move, or speak, he turned away, disinterested. Boredom rolled off him in waves.

Seokmin gulped. There was something singularly intimidating about beautiful people. Especially when they were serious. 

“Is it, uh, really okay if I sit here?”

He closed his eyes, dismayed by his own uncoolness. What was with the _stammering?_

He opened his eyes, trying not to be obvious about staring. The boy was blinking at him and all of Seokmin's thoughts began to echo; something bright and sparkly ignited in Seokmin's stomach, bursting into thousands of pieces of butterfly confetti. 

“Sure.”

Seokmin sat, hitting his elbow on the hand rest hard enough to see stars _._

He felt an amused stare linger on him as he dithered and nearly lost control of his guitar, having to knot the strap firmly around his knuckles to stop it from falling down. Then he sat down on his phone.  

Ears burning, he fished his phone out from under his butt and risked a glance to his left.  

The prettiest boy in the world quickly hid his smirk. “The sky looks weird,” he murmured instead, his incredulous smile clearly reflected on the window. “I hope it doesn’t snow.”

The possibility hadn’t occurred to Seokmin when he set off, and he stared at the boy with slow-growing panic. Snow wouldn’t let bull-headed Soonyoung forget their promise to meet at the station, certainly wouldn’t be enough to keep him safe and warm and indoors when Seokmin was on the way.

The thought made his toes curl with happiness even as he grew more anxious.  

How to ask Soonyoung to stay at his dorm, when he was so determined? Seokmin hadn’t won any of their arguments yet, in more than a decade of knowing each other. Soonyoung was a softie but he was so stubborn, plus he always knew what to say to make Seokmin’s opinion waver. It was like facing down a hamster-cheeked hurricane.

He laboriously began typing his text out: backspacing and rewording himself so that Soonyoung would actually listen, for once.

“Girlfriend?”

Seokmin’s head jerked up, and the shock of hearing him made his fingers skid on the keys, nearly sending the phone clattering to the floor.

“What makes you say that?”

His shoulders lifted, as lazily dismissive as a cat. “Nothing especially. Stop overthinking and send it.”

Seokmin hesitated.

The boy was already turning away with a stilted little grin. “Suit yourself.”

Seokmin hurriedly hit _send_ and said, “It’s not that, you’re— are you cold?”

The boy blinked and turned back to Seokmin. “No, not especially.”

“Your hands are shaking.”

“Ah, that,” he said as he tucked them inside his sleeves. “I lost my gloves. It’s warm in here but my hands are usually always really cold.”

Seokmin showed him his own bare hands. “Sorry I don’t have a pair to offer you.”

The boy laughed. “You must really be an idiot, to apologize for something like that. It’s alright, idiot. I’ll be fine soon.”

Seokmin bristled. Looking around, his gaze caught on a middle-aged man in a suit with a pair of gloves on his lap. “You could ask for them from that man, look, he’s not wearing his, he’s just carrying them.”

The prettiest boy in the world cast him a searching look. “Maybe he’ll wear them when he gets off,” the boy explained. “Or maybe he’s just warm right now. Or maybe they’re a present for someone he bought at the station. It’d be rude to ask, don’t you think?”

“Wow, I didn’t even think about that,” Seokmin confessed. Tiny incriminating details always escaped him, leaving him in Mingyu’s mercy whenever he needed a plan for something. “You must be really kind.”

The boy stared at him for a beat. “How old are you?”

“Nineteen?”

“Why are you asking me, we just met,” the boy smiled warmly. “And it makes sense that you’re younger than me. I was just surprised, since you look older.”

“I am?” Seokmin said, eyes wide and shocked. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-one,” he says, then laughed a big _ha-hah!_ laugh at Seokmin’s expression, stunning him further. “I look younger, right?”

“A lot younger,” Seokmin said, mouth open, fervent. “Whoa, that’s crazy! I seriously thought you were a high-schooler!”

“Ah, well, you’re just as bad. How can you be such a baby when you look so mature?”

“I’m not a baby,” Seokmin protested. “I’m only two years younger.”

“Maybe,” the boy allowed. He sat on his cold hands and shifted a little, into a lazy, comfortable position. “But you seem like a bit of an airhead, and that’s worse. How are you going to survive in Seoul like this, small town boy?”

Seokmin stared at him in wonder and he cracked up, laughing till he was breathless, eyes leaking tears, till Seokmin was struck entirely speechless.

“You _are_ an idiot,” he said, wiping his eyes. _“_ It’s so obvious you’re going to Seoul,” he added with a nod at the guitar. “Rock star. Are you joining a band or do you have a contract already?”

“No fair,” Seokmin whined, feeling wronged. He liked the way the boy was looking at him, however, with stars in his eyes. “I don’t know anything about you.”

“Make that _I don’t know anything about you, hyung,”_ he corrected, laughing at the distressed ‘o’ of Seokmin’s mouth. He moved his phone aside, a sleek turquoise-cased thing with a zoo of straps hanging off of it, and smiled, quick and wicked at Seokmin. “We’re not that different.”

“What do you mean, hyu—”

Up close, his eyes were clear, his skin smooth, cheekbones delicate. His lips were the exact shape and color of rose petals.

Seokmin’s thoughts sputtered to a halt.

The most beautiful boy in the world leaned in and smirked at Seokmin’s surprised squeak; his intimidating aura of boredom had fallen away completely and he was watching Seokmin with playful curiosity, like a cat waiting to pounce.

Seokmin made another breathless noise when he stuck his hand out without warning, staring at Seokmin suggestively till he shook it with his own sweaty hand. His skin was cool and smooth.

“My name is Jeonghan,” he said, and smiled. “I’m the same as you, headed for Seoul.”

_Do you remember? You kept whining about wanting sleep and jabbing me in the side to make me stop talking, but then you complained that the train was too jerky for you to relax and made me sing again. The train, stopping and starting, took five hours to get to Seoul but it didn’t feel that way._

_Hyung, I’d heard Seoul wasn’t kind, but you were._

Time slowed when he saw Soonyoung again.

He hadn’t meant to count the days, not when there was FaceTime and practice room selcas and all the million other ways Soonyoung had made sure to keep in touch with him. And it wasn’t like he’d been abandoned, either. Soonyoung believed in Seokmin more than he himself ever could.

Why was it, then, that it felt so much like a miracle to see Soonyoung waiting in the platform for him?

“ _Hyung,_ ” Seokmin breathed when he saw him, Soonyoung bundled up and standing on his tiptoes to scan the crowd. When he spotted Seokmin his whole face _lit up,_ and a short sprint and a hop later, leapt into his arms. He was laughing up at him, clutching twin handfuls of Seokmin’s coat, chubby-cheeked and delighted and still the same Soonyoung that was Seokmin’s dearest wish.

“What are you crying for, idiot,” Soonyoung said, his laughter still spilling into the air around them. He poked Seokmin’s cheeks. “Where’s that smile I missed for two years, huh?”

Seokmin grinned helplessly, sniffling. Soonyoung mumbled “Jeez,"and hugged him tight, warm as a furnace, still the affectionate Soonyoung-hyung of his memories.

“Was the train ride very long?” he said into Seokmin’s shoulder.

“Mm, so-so,” Seokmin wiped his eyes, smiling more steadily now. Soonyoung squeezed hard and let him go, mirroring his grin like Seokmin’s happiness was infectious. “You know, hyung, it didn’t feel long at all, because I met this incredible—”

“ _T_ _here_ you are.”

Seokmin whipped around, laughing. “Jeonghannie, come over and let me introduce you!”

“Hm? I guess I should throw this guitar down in the tracks and shake hands, then,” Jeonghan yelled. He swung Seokmin’s guitar back and forth like he was actually going to do it, ignoring Seokmin’s grabby hands and appalled whines of _hyung, no! “_ I’m just _dying_ to meet this person that you rushed over to meet without even bothering to grab your shit. Let me just—”

Seokmin managed to wrestle his guitar back. “Hyung, hyung, I’m sorry, I got excited, I shouldn’t have left my stuff back there.”

“If you really regret it, do five sets of aegyo,” Jeonghan said, and counted them down as Seokmin complied, his face young and full of delight.

“Ahem,” said Soonyoung.

Seokmin finished off with a final _buing-buing!_ and explained, warm-cheeked, “This hyung is like this all the time, I swear. Soonyoungie, this is Jeonghan-hyung, he’s new to Seoul like me. Jeonghan, this is Soonyoung.”

“I’ve heard a lot,” Jeonghan said, smiling. He unlinked his arm from Seokmin’s to brush some lint off of Soonyoung’s coat, unfazed by Soonyoung’s big deer-in-headlights eyes. “Tell me, how do you find time to meet your friends in train stations in between all the cancer research you do?”

Seokmin rolled his eyes. “He means I talk you up a bit. I’d talk you up too, Hannie-hyung, if you actually _told_ me anything about yourself.”

“Nothing wrong with a bit of cancer research,” Soonyoung said with a laugh. “But wow, you guys really hit it off, huh. Jeonghan-ssi, I’m dipping into the research funds to treat this monster here tonight, do you want to join us?”

Seokmin turned to him, eyes shining.

“I _do_ have plans,” Jeonghan hedged meaningfully, because that’s what he was like: absolutely terrible. But then he caught Seokmin’s eye and there was a hint, just a hint, of uncertainty there: Seokmin realized that this silly hyung was waiting for his okay.

Jeonghan burst out laughing when Seokmin made faces at him. “I guess I could do with some Seoul food.”

“Excellent,” Soonyoung said, rubbing his hands together his adorable Soonyoung way, as pleased as a puppy. “Mingyu and Minghao are waiting in the car. Time for the city boys to shine.”

“I don’t trust him,” said Mingyu, the first time they were alone.

Alone except for Minghao, that is, who rolled his eyes eloquently and nudged Seokmin’s ribs with his elbow. “Don’t mind him, he’s just bitter because Jeonghan’s smarter than him. _I_ like him, Seoku,” he said, warmly. “Jeonghannie-hyung is very pretty.”

“He’s not—that has nothing to do with—” taking in both their raised eyebrows, Mingyu sighed. “Fine. But I still don’t trust him.”

“Why?” Seokmin said. “I know he doesn’t talk a lot about himself, but I can tell he’s a good guy. Soonyoungie is good with him, and you’re the one who told me he’s a great judge of character.”

“Soonyoung-hyung would accept the demon lord if it meant keeping you happy,” Mingyu said, rolling his eyes both at the sentiment, and the way Seokmin blushed as soon as he heard it. “But that’s not it. Don’t you think he knows his way around a little too well? When we were coming here he pointed the car park out to us.”

“So?” Minghao drawled. “Maybe he’s visited Seoul before. I’d say that was a lot more normal than suddenly deciding to move here without knowing anything about it.”

“Has he?” Mingyu asked Seokmin, undeterred. “That must have come up when you were talking, right?”

Seokmin didn’t look at him. He watched Soonyoung and Jeonghan instead, waiting at the counter for their food. Mostly he was appreciating the picture they made—both of them winter-pale, Soonyoung with his sweet face and dark hair and Jeonghan so so beautiful. Jeonghan had worried over nothing: they were getting along like a house on fire, and it made Seokmin proud to look at them talking to each other, and think that he, Lee Seokmin, had helped Jeonghan to make friends in Seoul on his first day.

Thousands of tiny explosions of happiness were going off in Seokmin’s chest. To think, he was friends with _both_ of them.

“I don’t know, Mingyu,” he said. “He was really nice to me on the train.”

Perhaps sensing Seokmin’s awestruck line of thought, Soonyoung looked in their direction inquisitively. He caught Seokmin’s eye, and blew him a kiss; Seokmin blushed crimson but returned it, more dramatically than before, grinning when Soonyoung guffawed.

Mingyu sighed. “I can’t tell who spoils you more.”

Stricken, Seokmin finally turned to meet Mingyu’s eyes. “Jeonghan doesn’t—”

“Then let’s hope he won’t,” Minghao interrupted. “Then we won’t have to worry about Seokminnie depending on him to take care of him, and Mingyu can finally admit that it’s Jeonghan’s brains that bother him so much.”

Minghao’s words had their own blunt brand of kindness. He wasn’t blind to Seokmin’s faults like Soonyoung sometimes was, nor as hypersensitive to them like Mingyu. Where Mingyu and Seokmin craved company, Minghao could survive almost as well on his own. It was his quiet stability that made him accept them both when they’d been struggling to do the same.

But the thing was: Mingyu had a point. Seokmin was aware of his own tendency to lean on the Soonyoungs and Jeonghans of the world; the reliable hyung-types who drowned their dongsaengs in affection and looked out for them with dogged persistence. Two years ago, it was pride that made Mingyu turn down Soonyoung’s offer to move to Seoul with him. Seokmin did it out of love; not wanting Soonyoung to put his dreams on hold to look after him.

He’d been so sure he was capable of looking after himself, now. Seokmin looked down at his hands.

“I don’t want to be a burden to Soonyoungie-hyung,” he said in a small voice.

Minghao sighed noisily. From the guilty shifting from his side of the table, Seokmin guessed that he must have glared at Mingyu.

“You’re like a puppy, Seokminnie,” he said, finally. He drew a retriever on the condensation on his glass, grinning a little. “You can’t help picking up owners any more than they can help looking after you. But if you want to survive and be happy, you’ve got to be a person, not a puppy.”

“You know we just want things to work out for you,” Mingyu added, and that was completely true. Seokmin scrounged up a grin to stretch at his lips.

“Boy, you guys really did become my parents,” he said, his fondness real. “When are you going to give me a little brother?”

“We’ll work on it as soon as we get home, don’t worry about it,” Minghao said blithely.

Seokmin stared for a second.

“You mean—” his eyes boggled when Minghao nodded and Mingyu, with studied nonchalance, began to whistle. Seokmin shrieked. “You mean it finally— you’re finally together?”

Minghao shrugged, casual except for the way he didn’t meet Mingyu’s eyes. “For a few months now. You’re not surprised, right?”

“Well, yes, but—” Seokmin windmilled his arms, hopelessly overwhelmed. “That’s amazing! But why didn’t you _tell_ me?”

“Yah, slow down, reaction machine,” went Soonyoung, nudging his way into the seat directly opposite Seokmin’s while Jeonghan sat at his side, looking curiously around at all their grinning faces. “Give me some credit too. I was the one who called them over for group study sessions and bailed.”

“Yeah, to go call Seokmin,” Mingyu muttered. He was drowned out by Seokmin’s enthusiasm.

“ _I knew it!”_ he cackled, turning to Jeonghan. “These two have been into each other for _ages._ Gosh, I thought I’d die of old age before they figured it out for themselves.”

“Congratulations,” Jeonghan said warmly. “I hope you’re happy. Have you been together long?”

Minghao, smiling, immediately pulled out his phone to show pictures. Jeonghan’s eyes curled into little appreciative curves, nodding along as Minghao spilled their whole history, somehow incredibly happy for people he’d only just met.

He looked as pretty as a picture – a glossy magazine photo—even in the bad lighting of the restaurant. Seokmin loved the way he looked.

“Why did you move here?” Jeonghan asked, at length. He rolled his eyes a little in the direction of Seokmin. “I know Soonyoung-ah was accepted as a trainee to an entertainment agency, and about our rockstar here, but what about you two? You’re both handsome enough to be models.”

“I’m studying to be a photographer,” Minghao said. “Both of us are. You’re right though, Mingyu does some modeling on the side for our projects and stuff.”

Mingyu leaned forward with his arms crossed, cutting off the questions written on Jeonghan’s face. “And what about you, hyung?”

Seokmin slumped a little in his seat. Mingyu was the reason none of them could have nice things.

Jeonghan seemed unfazed by Mingyu’s passive-aggressiveness. If anything, he looked relieved that at least one of them had asked—which made Seokmin briefly entertain the possibility that Jeonghan was _worried_ about them before he dismissed it. They were a group, Jeonghan was the loner. It worked the other way around.

“I’m a research assistant at K-uni,” Jeonghan said. “Natural Sciences. Boring stuff.”

“He’s good looking, he’s smart, he’s an angel,” Seokmin needled, flinching at the vicious kick under the table but smiling on. “Can he be more perfect? Hannie-hyung, how do you do it?”

Jeonghan flustered, “That’s right. I was born this way, perfect,” and scowled as Seokmin giggled. “Can we go back to talking about Minghao and Mingyu now?”

“Sure,” said Soonyoung, beaming along. He loved stuff like this; Seokmin making new friends, having inside jokes and laughing with new people. Some of Seokmin’s first memories were of Soonyoung, gap-toothed and encouraging as Seokmin peeked from behind.

“Hyung, why didn’t _you_ tell me that they were dating?” Seokmin asked him. He pouted when Soonyoung just smiled and shrugged. “Hyung, this is what I meant when I asked for updates! Now they’re probably not even living in their old apartment and— _oh my god.”_

Jeonghan took the opportunity and pushed a fry into Seokmin’s gaping mouth.

“I was going to stay with you guys till I found a place!”

“You still can,” Jeonghan said, unfazed. “I’m sure your friends won’t mind putting up with you for a week.”

“Or you could crash at my place,” Soonyoung offered. He wilted when Mingyu, Minghao and Seokmin all shouted _No!_ at the same time. “Just wanted to help,” he mumbled.

“Doesn’t your dorm have rules against that kind of thing, hyung?” Seokmin said quickly. “I don’t want you to get in trouble. Plus you have a roommate.”

“Chan won’t mind,” Soonyoung said, smiling as if the entire idea was ridiculous. And Soonyoung was a better judge of character than Seokmin was – was just overall smarter about most things than Seokmin—but if he was so sure of someone it had to be the real deal. “He’s been dying to meet you. He seems obnoxious but he’s the hardest worker I’ve met, and it’s cute how he thinks we’re rivals all the time. And—yeah,” Soonyoung trailed off, looking embarrassed. Out of the corner of Seokmin’s eye he saw Jeonghan shift. “He’s a nice kid, Seoku. He won’t mind you crashing with us for a bit.”

“Wow, Soonyoungie, he does sound cool,” Seokmin said, happy for him. “You used to say he was kind of annoying. Wasn’t he the one who didn’t let you sleep till he won a dance battle?”

Soonyoung flushed a little. “That was a long time ago. And, uh. He’s got unexpected charms.”

“You’re acting kind of weird,” Seokmin said with a laugh and Soonyoung blinked, flushing more. “You used to _really_ hate him, didn’t you?”

Soonyoung didn’t say anything, scratching his nail on the gloss of the table. In the silence, Minghao cleared his throat. “But back to the issue, it’s still a bad idea. Won’t the agency notice if you have one extra person even for one week? And with your training schedule, hyung, it’ll be impossible for you to go over and show your card every time Seokmin-ah goes in or out.”

“I’ll get him a copy!” Soonyoung said, full of hot air, chest puffed. It was how he got when he was driven to a corner. Seokmin felt a rush of affection surge through him. “I’m sure the CEO won’t mind, and—”

“I’ll figure something out, hyung,” Seokmin said, gently. He cupped Soonyoung’s cheeks and smiled when Soonyoung’s mouth slackened from an argument-ready pout to a surprised little ‘o’. He was so cute; Seokmin wanted to kiss him so badly. It was torture to stop himself, to sound adult and say, “I should have made sure of these things before I came here. You shouldn’t have to risk getting kicked out after you’ve worked so hard, hyung.”

It felt like he’d been scraped raw to say that without flinching. Soonyoung didn’t like to talk about what Seokmin thought of as his love confession to him: the two years he spent on his own, all his blood sweat and tears. Seokmin thought he might even be embarrassed about it, and that was maybe the worst part.

Soonyoung’s full lips pressed together and he swallowed.

“When did you learn to sound so grown up?” he said, offbeat. Seokmin didn’t have it in him to smile anymore; it was all he could do not to stare at Soonyoung in open dismay.

Soonyoung sighed a little. “You used to go along with whatever hyung said.”

Seokmin drew in a big gasp of a breath, and jerked his head away. He was smiling; he could feel his cheeks stretching and eyes watering. He glanced over the heads of their friends, hoping they weren’t watching.   

Jeonghan was looking straight at him.  

And it shouldn’t have felt monumental, the way Jeonghan’s head was cocked like he didn’t believe in Seokmin’s big showy smile for one second. How he pretended not to care as he split his chopsticks in half and said, voice light,

“There’s room in my place, but I’m not looking for a roommate.”

The whole table gaped at him.

“I knew it!” Mingyu shouted, overloud; the bottles of soy sauce clattered with the sweep of his long arms around. “You’re some kind of Seoul kid! There’s no way you’d know where this restaurant was!”

Jeonghan snorted. “Did you think that everyone moves to different cities on the fly like idiots?”

Seokmin mumbled “Not an idiot,” purely on reflex.

“Makes sense,” Minghao said, shooting Mingyu a victorious grin. “Where’s this apartment of yours, Jeonghan-hyung?”

“Out near Han River,” Jeonghan said. He began meticulously picking out all the celery in his salad and making a neat pile on Seokmin’s plate. “Not that it affects you, me not being on the market for a roommate and all.”

“Oh,” said Minghao, nonplussed, just as Seokmin groaned, “ _Hyung._ How much aegyo do you really want?”

Jeonghan’s mouth twitched. “No amount of aegyo will make a difference, and as your second choice in flatmates, I’d like to—”

“You’re not my second choice! You’re my first! You come before the first!”

“Wow,” said Soonyoung, without rancor.

Jeonghan sighed a huge and showy puff of air, then bit his cheeks when he saw the faces Seokmin was making at him.

“I guess you can live with me then,” he said through a badly-disguised grin. “Just until I get sick of you.”

_Hot baths. Strawberries. Stray cats. Americano in the mornings and trying out fun recipes for pasta. I’ve always known the things you like. Isn’t that the same as knowing you?_

_You hate talking about yourself, but hyung, you didn’t need to._

_Your kind heart always shone through._

Their apartment itself was number thirteen on the fourth floor of an old building that, as promised, overlooked the Han River, and had more than enough space for two people to co-let. Seokmin had immediately fallen in love with how it looked, even bare. Most importantly, pets were allowed, which meant that getting a dog or two was not completely off the table (no matter what Jeonghan said). They only stayed in there long enough to make a shopping list but Seokmin had no intention of ever letting Jeonghan kick him out. It was the perfect distance to work, to all the convenience stores and the river, and it had a cute bathroom with great acoustics that Seokmin looked forward to singing in. Bribed by his rent halving, Jeonghan had agreed to let him stay until the day Seokmin annoyed him enough to overlook the finances.

All the stuff in the Jeonghan wanted to buy for their new apartment was worn down to soft, plush edges; he clearly wanted to live inside a pillow. That left Seokmin to take care of the practicalities, weighing dish racks and trying to calculate how many plates they should get in his head, as Jeonghan lounged his way through an entire showroom’s worth of beds.

“Yah,” Seokmin said, laughing, being disrespectful on purpose when he rounded a corner and found Jeonghan settling with a satisfied grin yet again. If he were a cat he’d be purring. “That bed’s not even for sale, it’s just a display.”

Jeonghan opened his thickly-lashed eyes and gave a terribly theatrical little yawn. “Really? But the sales lady said it was okay since I was so tired.”

“You rascal,” Seokmin said, half in awe, half exasperated. “I can’t believe the stuff you get away with. Now tell me, blue or pink?”

He held out two glasses.

Jeonghan’s eyebrows ticked up. “Planning on drinking a lot of scotch, then?”

“No?” Seokmin blinked a few times before he understood. “Ah, you mean these are scotch glasses? I thought they were pretty. Why can’t we drink anything we like in these? Look, hyung, they come in pairs. We could be a couple.”

Jeonghan tsked, but Seokmin could see how much he liked the idea. “Fine, fine. Pink then.”

Seokmin cheered and picked up a pair. The homeware store they’d stumbled across seemed to have everything; he was planning to double back on the aisle he’d just passed to check if what he saw out of the corner of his eye really was a row of refrigerators. If so, they could scoop up literally everything they needed from this one stop.

“Wow, we’re really lucky,” he said happily. “All the stuff here has decent prices as well.”

Jeonghan’s eyes were closed again, but the corners of his mouth tipped up in a little smile. “That’s what it’s like, being flatmates with Luck Jeonghan.”

“Maybe the universe is smiling at us because you’re an angel,” Seokmin teased, delighting in the way Jeonghan gave a flustered, protesting laugh. “But how are we supposed to survive the night? These’ll probably take at least a day to be delivered, right?”

“Ah, I asked the owner and she said she’d drop them by personally tonight.”

Seokmin boggled. “The owner? As in the shop’s owner? That pretty lady at the front?”

“Sure,” Jeonghan said. He sounded nonchalant but his eyes were sharp on Seokmin; Seokmin wondered what he was being tested for, not that he could ever tell, with Jeonghan. “I asked if there was a way to get the beds back to our place and she promised to come by with a truck.”

“Whoa,” said Seokmin. “That’s so kind of her! Wow, I had no idea people in Seoul were like this. I’m glad I have you with me here, this sort of stuff never happens when I’m on my own. Why are you smiling like that?”

Jeonghan put his huge smile away and Seokmin immediately regretted calling attention to it, because wow, Jeonghan had such a pretty smile. In its place Jeonghan put on that disinterested, faraway look that didn’t fool Seokmin for a second.

“It _is_ a good thing you met me,” he said, examining his nails. Seokmin rolled his eyes. “If you were really grateful, you’d sing me a lullaby.”

Seokmin laughed. “Hyung, you can’t actually sleep here.” But he sang anyway, an old tune he and Soonyoung sang to each other when they were kids, nonsense about clouds and fishermen and monkeys.  

“As expected from a singer,” Jeonghan said. He was propping his head up on his arm, not sleeping at all; his attention made Seokmin flush. “Your voice is really pretty.”

Seokmin covered his mouth and laughed, face flaming. “It feels different when you say it,” he said. “But it makes me happy to hear it.”

Jeonghan laughed as well. “Ah, you’re cute.”

He sounded so fond it sent a prickle down Seokmin’s neck. He very deliberately didn’t think about Mingyu and Minghao’s warnings, and beamed at Jeonghan, content.

“Hyung, do you want to go down to get ramen with me later? I saw a convenience store when we were passing the river.”

“Didn’t you already eat an entire packet of those mini donuts?” said Jeonghan incredulously.

“Ah, but I’m still hungry.”

Jeonghan narrowed his eyes at Seokmin’s sheepish expression. “Yah. Aren’t you a celebrity? You can’t afford to put on weight anytime you want. They’ll put you on an extreme diet otherwise. I’ve, uh, heard they do that, at entertainment companies.”

“It’s not like they wanted me for a visual,” Seokmin said. “Besides, I run.”

“You run,” Jeonghan repeated, doubtfully.

“And I play sports,” Seokmin added. “I’m really good at volleyball. Hyung, we should play sometime!”

“Maybe,” Jeonghan said, and Seokmin assumed that meant _no_ and sighed. “Now go and pick the rest of the stuff up, it’s getting dark. We won’t be able to see the river if we get late.”

Seokmin followed directions, dumping everything he had in his hands into Jeonghan’s lap and trotting off to look at the refrigerators.

“Isn’t this nice?” Seokmin asked, later, as he cracked two eggs with both hands. It was a trick that looked infinitely cooler when Minghao did it, but Jeonghan smiled and made impressed noises nevertheless, making Seokmin feel vaguely proud of himself.

“It’s cold,” Jeonghan said, needling, “And I think I saw a bug.”

Seokmin snorted. “Want me to kill it for you?” He took one cup of ramen out of the machine and gave it to Jeonghan. “That’ll warm you up.”

“Please and thank you~~”

“What a cute hyung I have,” Seokmin cooed as he grabbed chopsticks for both of them.

“That’s right,” said Jeonghan, complacent. He pointed at the silhouette of the tree they’d noticed earlier with a bench underneath it. “Quick, Seokmin-ah, pretend that that tree’s an enemy.”

“Trying to take _my_ ramen?” Seokmin said, loud and scandalized. “This ramen that I grew out in the fields for ten years?”

Jeonghan choked on a laugh, adding commentary as Seokmin prattled on throughout the meal, adding theatrics and monologues when he was inspired or when Jeonghan demanded it. It was amazing, seeing how much Jeonghan was enjoying it. In the past only Soonyoung had played along with him that well.

The thought made something in his stomach _wrench_ with great violence.

Jeonghan probably noticed his plummeting mood. “What’s wrong now,” he asked, prodding Seokmin with his foot. “You were all smiley and bright just a second ago. Come on, tell hyung.”

“It’s stupid.”

“I’m used to it from you, now.” He dug his toes in deeper, and smiled. “What were you thinking about? Was it Soonyoung?”

Seokmin nodded, miserable-tired to the extent that he couldn’t even wonder how Jeonghan guessed. “Soonyoungie and I play like this too,” he said. “At least we used to. Ah, I’m getting nostalgic, that’s stupid.”

“It is a little stupid,” Jeonghan agreed. He chuckled a little when Seokmin made a face. “Come on, you guys aren’t apart anymore. You were talking my ear off on the train about how much you missed him the last two years.”

“But we _are_ ,” Seokmin burst, like a cup overspilling. He felt vaguely ridiculous, to be _this_ upset about it but he was tired and maybe it was the spiciness of the ramen that was making him so overwarm and distraught. “We’re both in Seoul, finally, but we’re still apart. I waited two years for this, you know?”

Jeonghan nodded. He dropped his chopsticks into his empty container and began to stroke Seokmin’s hair.

“And I know I’m being ungrateful, but I can’t stop thinking about how we probably won’t have time for ourselves, since we’re both technically trainees. He’ll be at dance practice and I’ll have to do my own training.”

“But you’re still closer than you used to be,” Jeonghan said, speaking in a soft, calming voice to the time of his fingers in Seokmin’s hair. “If you were still in your hometown, meeting up at your break times would be impossible, right? Now you can meet in ten minutes, talk, and go back to the practice rooms without getting in trouble with the trainers.” He tugged on Seokmin’s hair a little, reproving. “That’s what being an adult is all about, Seokminnie.”

 _Grow up._ Seokmin was _trying._

“You’re really smart, hyung,” Seokmin said. “I feel like I could tell you anything and you’d just get me.”

A corner of Jeonghan’s lips lifted. “I’m not that great.”

Seokmin wildly disagreed, but the set of Jeonghan’s mouth made it clear he wasn’t in the mood for debate and so Seokmin bit his lip and bottled it up for later. Jeonghan’s eyes were on the river, the spill of warm streetlights catching his profile. Seokmin, when he realized he was staring, couldn’t even bring himself to want to stop.

“What are you thinking about?”

He bit his tongue almost immediately and wished he hadn’t said anything. When Jeonghan’s eyes turned back towards him they were still far away, moving through realities that Seokmin couldn’t see.

“Maybe,” said Jeonghan, soft-voiced, “the reason I feel for Soonyoung-ah is because I used to be a trainee, myself.”

Seokmin stiffened.

“It was a long time ago,” Jeonghan said. He sounded almost placating. “I only stayed for a year. It wasn’t for me. I’m—I’m not the type to be persistent, when things get tiresome. So. I think guys like you and Soonyoung who have a dream are a lot cooler, compared to me.”

Seokmin put both arms around his shoulders and squeezed. “Do you regret it?” he asked quietly. “You’d have been an amazing idol, though. The rest of us wouldn’t have a chance.”

Jeonghan smiled. Bringing his hand up to curl his fingers around Seokmin’s arm, he said, “I know when I’m bad at something, Seokminnie. I think too much. The pressure of being in the limelight doesn’t suit someone like me.”

“But you’d have group mates!” Seokmin said, not knowing why he was pursuing this, or the cause of the thick curl of jealousy that coils in his heart even as he’s saying it. “They’d take care of you for sure, right? If they can distract you from thinking—” he flushed hot, realizing what he was saying, and looked down. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I got so worked up,” he admitted with an embarrassed laugh. His ears were burning.

Maybe he would someday stop making a fool of himself in front of Jeonghan.

“But hyung, really. You would have been amazing, ‘cause everything you do is beautiful, you know? I can’t explain it –stop laughing at me and _listen,”_ he cried, covering Jeonghan’s mouth, “It’s like you’re this light bulb and we’re all dark and gloomy and sad and you’re lighting up everywhere you go. Everyone should have a Yoon Jeonghan in their life.”

Jeonghan’s shoulders were shaking from the force of his laughter. Seokmin tried to muffle him with his sweater sleeves and got his hands trapped in Jeonghan’s grip for his trouble, and a smiling Jeonghan looking straight into his eyes.

“This is the least punk rock you've ever been.”

“Hyung! Read the room,” Seokmin whined, crinkling his nose.

“Sorry, sorry,” Jeonghan said. He pinched Seokmin’s cheeks and Seokmin loved how his eyes were sparkling with good humor. “Seokminnie’s not annoyed, right?”

Seokmin wiped his pout away and grinned back, charmed. “I don’t get annoyed easily.”

Jeonghan went boneless against his side and let out a groan of contentment.

“You really sound like a pensioner,” Seokmin observed, and Jeonghan tweaked his nose, unruffled. “Hyung, dessert?”

They ate Homerun Balls until the sun had properly set, and played rock-paper-scissors so Jeonghan had an excuse to demand a piggyback back home. 

 

_Even now, I can tell you quite honestly: my feelings of looking up to you sometimes felt a lot like falling in love. I really wasn't ready to grow up. Yet within the reality of needing to fend for myself, you always showed me the kindest dreams. If it was love, then it was the sweet rush of a first love: the kind that I thought I'd already outgrown._


	2. my old delicious burdens

It made sense that Jeonghan was popular with girls, but it surprised Seokmin anyway.

Maybe he really was an idiot.

“What’s wrong?” Jeonghan murmured as he passed behind him, into the kitchen the next morning. His fingers trailed along the nape of Seokmin’s neck for one shivery split second. The pretty girl from the homeware store, Kyulkyung, smiled at Seokmin from the doorway, where she was fastening her coat.

Seokmin watched in mild awe as Jeonghan escorted her to the door. He clearly didn’t want to go out in the cold: he waved her off alone to battle the ice monsters Seokmin was convinced rose out of the river every night.

“At least treat your girlfriend a little better,” Seokmin grumbled. “It’s not the same as sending me out to get the milk, you know.”

Jeonghan stretched out next to him on the super old, super comfy sofa and gave him a lazy smile. “It’s exactly the same, because she’s not my girlfriend, and she’s the one who decided to invite herself for tea.”

Seokmin snorted and quickly caught the cushion that Jeonghan threw at him. “I’m keeping this,” he said.

“Now,” Jeonghan said, settling deeper into the couch with a relieved groan. His feet nudged insistently at Seokmin until he let them drape over his lap. “Tell hyung what’s wrong.”

“Hannie-hyung—”

His toes poked Seokmin’s thigh, making him yelp. “Don’t _Hannie-hyung_ me. I didn’t let you live under this roof just so you can lie to me, your favorite hyung.” His fine features softened. “Is it Soonyoung?”

“What? No, hyung’s doing great.”

“Your parents, then? You don’t talk to me about them.”

“It’s definitely not that. Hyung, you’re kind of bad at this.”

The toes nudged harder. “Well, I _know_ for a _fact_ that it isn’t because you’re nervous about meeting this Lee Jihoon and your CEO today, because that would be ridiculous and beyond stupid.”

“ _Hyung_ ,” Seokmin whined. “I can’t help it! Their emails sounded like they were expecting someone a lot more impressive than me! What if they ask me _questions?_ You don’t know how bad I am at that stuff!”

“Somehow, I can guess,” Jeonghan said. He sat up with some difficulty and looked at Seokmin with a stern expression on his face. “Idiot. Why are you _still_ stressing out about this? Your demo’s already been accepted. You just need to prove that your talent is a hundred per cent authentic and you’re in.”

“Hyung—”

“—and what’s this about questions? Are you being interviewed for a desk job, hm? Just sing, fool. They’ll do the rest.”

“You say the nicest things sometimes,” said Seokmin, meaning it.

The fine line of Jeonghan’s cheekbones went pink. “Shut up, fool.”

“But I’m Jeonghannie-hyung’s fool,” Seokmin said, cracking up when he got smacked. “But wow, hyung, you really are super nice. No wonder the girls are all falling for you.”

Jeonghan made a face. “No, it’s because I’m new,” he said in a rare moment of candidness. His eyes stayed on Seokmin’s, blunt but sincere. “Give it enough time and they’ll get used to me.”

Seokmin puffed out a laugh.

“Then they’re just gonna fall for you even more,” he said, and tried to figure out why his hyung’s cheeks went pinker.

 

If Yoon Jeonghan was the prettiest person Seokmin had met, then Lee Jihoon was the cutest.

“Technically your leader,” Jihoon reminded him as he led Seokmin through the surprisingly normal-looking offices. “And one year your senior in life. And I personally don’t see what my hair color has to do with how I make music.”

Also the prickliest, Seokmin amended. Jihoon seemed _very_ serious and that was potentially disastrous because Seokmin didn’t do well with serious people; they made him tongue-tied and star-struck even worse than the beautiful ones. If he ever met someone who was both he’d die.

“It’s nice of you to show me around, sunbaenim,” he found himself mumbling.  

Jihoon threw him a side-eyed look, paused in his brisk clip, and sighed. He looked up at Seokmin, dead in the eye. “I already told you it was okay to call me hyung. No need to be so formal.”

“Yes hyung,” Seokmin squeaked.

Jihoon sighed again. “You’re a talented kid, Seokmin-ah. Your vocal range puts the pros to shame. You just need to be polished down a little. You’ve already improved, since you’re not wearing that printed jacket you had in your demo tape.”

 _What’s wrong with it,_ Seokmin wanted to protest for the second time that day, then thought better of it. “Jeong—my roommate didn’t let me,” he said instead.

Jihoon hummed his approval. He started walking again, hurrying towards the elevator and punching in the topmost floor and saying, “Roommate, huh. Is it one of those friends in Seoul you mentioned in your virtual audition?”

“Nope, it’s a new one,” Seokmin said. “We met on the train.”

Jihoon raised an eyebrow.

“On the way to Seoul,” Seokmin clarified, sweating.

Jihoon’s eyebrow didn’t subside. Seokmin internally resigned himself to being forever kind of terrified of his tiny leader. “Sounds like a great guy. What’s his name?”

“Jeonghan.”

Jihoon nodded. “Tell me more about him till we get to the CEO.”

It was a strangely businesslike way of making small talk, but Seokmin liked Jihoon’s directness. Jeonghan was a subject he could chatter on and on about, the strangeness of their first meeting notwithstanding, ad by the time Jihoon was saying, “we’re here,” Seokmin had relaxed out of his initial nerves.

Unknown to Seokmin, he’d been led to the front of a glass door of a room at the end of the hallway. It didn’t take a genius to figure out it was the CEO’s office.

“We’re coming in,” Jihoon said to no one in particular, and ignoring Seokmin’s desperate crazy eyes to give him a minute first, stepped inside.

The CEO was younger than Seokmin had seen through the shaky Skype call, and a lot less intimidating. And lanky. And wow, was that mascara? Actually he was nothing like the guy swiveling the seat in the middle of the office at all, except maybe for the fact that they both wore glasses.

Seokmin kind of suspected they had the wrong guy.

Jihoon confirmed this by saying, flatly, “Wonwoo.”

If Jihoon ever said Seokmin’s name like that –more like the crack of a gunshot than a greeting—Seokmin would have had a nervous breakdown. The guy in the seat just grinned and started spinning slower instead, finally coming to a rest facing Seokmin.

“You must be the vocalist Jihoonie was all excited about. How’s life in Seoul? I’m Jeon Wonwoo, by the way.” When Jihoon coughed, Wonwoo shrugged a little and added, “I’m the tentative band’s proposed bassist.”

Seokmin bowed. “Lee Seokmin, Seoul has been great.”

Wonwoo stood. Seokmin, used to Mingyu’s treelike height, blinked when Wonwoo seemed to undulate for longer than necessary—it was like watching someone locked in slow motion. _A sloth_ , he thought, pleased to have made the connection.

Jihoon tsk’d. “I brought him here to introduce him to the CEO. Where is he?”

“Hasn’t come in today,” Wonwoo said. “I wanted to meet him too, but apparently he won’t be in till tomorrow.”

“Who told you?”

“Shua-hyung left just before you two showed up. Joshua-hyung’s our guitarist,” Wonwoo explained to Seokmin. “The idol trainees are in a separate building so it’s just us in this one. We’re all pretty close.”

“Right,” said Seokmin, and wondered without much hope if Joshua was a little more approachable. “Um, where’d he go? And, uh, I can’t start here till I meet the CEO, right?”

Jihoon’s head snapped up. He looked at Seokmin, sizing him up, before he smiled for the first time that day. “Wonwoo, call Shua-hyung. Tell him to being his guitar.”

 

“And we started jamming,” Seokmin mumbled, snuggling up to Jeonghan on the couch, who was fluffy-warm and smelled very nice. “Just like that.”

“Just like that?” Jeonghan repeated, amused.

Seokmin nodded. “Just like that.”

Jeonghan pushed him off, but just so he could sit straighter with his arm on a cushion. Then he pulled Seokmin back on to his lap and Seokmin went with a happy sigh, tired but warm. The TV was still running the drama they’d watched over dinner, and it filled the apartment with white noise and ghostlike snatches of conversation that didn’t seem that exciting to Seokmin. When Jeonghan began rubbing his back, he murmured, lowly, “Wow, you’re just skin and bones.”

Seokmin let out a jaw-cracking yawn and snuggled closer. “Mm?”

Jeonghan huffed a laugh that Seokmin really loved the sound of. “You are too tired not to be in bed right now.”

Seokmin forced his eyes open. Sluggishly his brain poked at him with all the events of the day and how badly he wanted to talk about them. “’M awake. Hyung, listen. The studio’s in the basement, and totally soundproof, right? The equipment is _amazing,_ like nothing I’ve ever seen. I wanted to send you guys pictures but it doesn’t have signal so you’ll have to text me if you need anything and—” his jaw cracked on a yawn. “Maybe I _am_ tired. Hyung, they wanted me to pick a stage name, you know? Wonwoo-hyung said it wasn’t _necessary_ but I kind of like the idea, like being a different person onstage, you know? I asked Soonie-hyung earlier when he called and he really liked the one I picked, Dokyeom. He says he wants that to be _his_ stage name too.”

“Dokyeom, huh,” Jeonghan hummed, switching to a different channel. He dug his fingers teasingly into Seokmin’s sides and gave an ugly cackle when Seokmin wiggled away. “You should have picked something cuter, Kyeommie.”

“I’m going to be in a rock band, hyung, it’s not supposed to be cute!”

“Tell me when you’re famous enough I can start selling your underwear on eBay,” Jeonghan said. “What’ll the nation think when it turns out Black Stones’ Dokyeom wears Pororo underwear?”

“Black Stones—where did that come from? And they’ll think you’re creepy and delusional, that’s all.”

“I can prove I’m your roommate.”

“No one will believe you when you tell them how we met. Jihoonie-hyung looked at me like I was crazy when I told him we met on the train. Seriously, he thinks you’re part of my imagination. I didn’t even have a proper photo of you to show him! I ended up describing you, and he one hundred per cent didn’t believe me after I told him that you looked like a prince. Yah, Yoon Jeonghan,” Seokmin said, hitting him on the arm as Jeonghan’s entire body shook with laughter. “My leader thinks I’m crazy thanks to you.”

“You’re a fool,” Jeonghan said affectionately, his voice hoarse with his chuckles. He wiped at his eyes. “Ah, how do these things happen to you? Normal people don’t run into these situations.”

“It’s because of you,” Seokmin said, settling down comfortably in his lap. “You’re my lucky charm, hyung.” He gave a sleepy wink to accompany the cheesy line.  “But it’ll be amazing when we debut ‘cause the members seem like they were _born_ to be famous, you know?  Jihoonie-hyung is like this grumpy tortured genius and Wonwoo-hyung just _makes up the lyrics as he goes,_ like just sings them and makes me adlib, and Shua-hyung is—” Seokmin sighed. “I want to be that good at guitar someday. And he’s so nice. He’s the nicest of them all.”

Jeonghan didn’t say anything for the longest time, long enough to make Seokmin frown and look up at his face. He wanted to brush aside the bangs that hid Jeonghan’s expression but something about the fine cracks in Jeonghan’s expression, and the tension in the room, drained his courage. “Hyung?”

Finally, Jeonghan brushed his hair behind his ear and smiled down at Seokmin. “Nicer than I am?”

Something like fear was slow to thaw in Seokmin’s veins. “No way,” he said, too quickly. He scanned Jeonghan’s face uncertainly.

Jeonghan smiled, and it was all wrong, brittle where it should have been mischievous. “As long as I’m still your favorite.”

“You are,” Seokmin said. “You’re my favorite person.”

Jeonghan looked at him again, surprise evident. He stared down at Seokmin for a second before he muttered, “God, this kid,” and stroked Seokmin’s hair.

This part of Jeonghan was like colored glass, puzzling to talk to. He always seemed so surprised when Seokmin said stuff like that, even when it was true, and kept dodging adroitly when he tried to compliment him more. It was sad, but Seokmin had already picked up that the best way not to fluster Jeonghan to the point where he insulted both of them was to act as casual as possible.

Seokmin’s eyes slipped shut again under Jeonghan’s touch. He had always liked having his hair played with, used to sit still for hours while Mingyu played hairdresser.

“What about Sooyoungie then, hm?”

“He’s different,” Seokmin mumbled. “Hyung, you know that.”

Jeonghan gave a short chuckle. “And what if he came in right now and saw us like this? Wouldn’t that ruin your chances, Seokminnie?”

“Nah,” Seokmin smiled at nothing, his eyes still closed. Jeonghan wasn’t as good at reading people as he pretended he was. “That’d mean he’d have to be jealous, and he’d never be jealous. Not because of me.”

The fingers in his hair stilled.

Seokmin pried his heavy lids open and squinted up at Jeonghan. He was haloed by the ceiling lights, long bangs framing the stricken expression on his face.

“Seokmin, he called _me_ when he couldn’t contact you today,” he said. “You don’t know how worried he sounded. You can’t tell me you think he has _no_ feelings for you.”

“He loves me, I know that,” Seokmin said. “It’s stupid, I shouldn’t—he’s looked after me his whole life, you know? He held my hand when I fell off my first swing. We didn’t have a great childhood but I can’t even imagine—” he took a deep breath and bit down on his lip, hard. It helped to keep his eyes fixed on Jeonghan’s face, stuck in a sad half-smile, and so pretty it made the confession easier just by looking at him. “I don’t know where I’d be without him, Jeonghan.”

Jeonghan nodded. Seokmin couldn’t tell if he did it out of sympathy or understanding. Both seemed likely, since he was so kind.

“And I’m—I shouldn’t want him to love me _different._ He’s watched out for me his whole life. I just. He’s so good to me,” he said matter-of-factly, as Jeonghan stared at him. “He already gives me so much, I’m an asshole for—”

“Don’t cry, you big baby,” Jeonghan said, wiping Seokmin’s cheeks with his fingers. “None of what you said is true. People’s feelings change all the time. Soonyoung just hasn’t seen you in that way yet.”

Seokmin knuckled at his eye, frustrated when that produced more tears. “If being in love feels like this, I don’t _want_ him to fall in love with me. It hurts so bad, hyung.”

Jeonghan sighed and touched his lips to his forehead. “That's just how it is.”

It always took a while for the hot ache-y feeling of tears to pass, and in that time Seokmin grew steadily more self-conscious until he was as embarrassed as he was miserable.

He should have called Minghao. It was Minghao he always called when he was thinking about his Soonyoung-feelings, and after almost three years of his pining and a further fifteen years of friendship Minghao was well-versed with the ins and outs of Seokmin’s problems and he was so used to it he barely complained anymore.

But this was Jeonghan.

“I better go,” he said, pushing himself to his feet clumsily. His head hurt, his heart hurt, and now his leg hurt too, since he banged it on the side of the coffee table. His life was full of jokes.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Jeonghan called after him as he was hobbling out of the living room. “You can give your bed to hyung and sleep on the floor. You’ll do something foolish if you’re all sad on your own.”

Seokmin froze. He noted the studied playfulness of Jeonghan’s tone and something that was coiled tight inside him went pliant, loose.

“Only if Hannie-hyung sings me to sleep,” he said with a small laugh, and Jeonghan shined bright and brilliant with his relief.

 

_Now that I think about it, luck seemed to avoid me a lot back then; I was never the type to win the lottery. Your luck was what lead us to meet._

_M_ _aybe it would be enough to see us through._

 

Out of the two of them, Jeonghan left for work first, clanking and clattering around the apartment to get ready for his eight o’clock sign-in till Seokmin, who only had practice in the afternoon, woke up and helped him make breakfast. He brushed his long hair for hours, threatening it with a haircut while the soup boiled and the rice cooked, and when he was showered and dried and brushed and dressed he looked so much like a university professor that Seokmin’s hands itched to take a picture. He loped around the apartment, clearly self-conscious, until Seokmin abandoned all pretenses of cooking and went to coo over his outfit.

“It’s my first day,” he said, puffing up his cheeks. “Of course I wanted to look nice.”

“And you do,” Seokmin said enthusiastically. “Hyung, you look great. You look like a professor from a movie with that cardigan.”

“It’s not too much?”

Seokmin shook his head, hair flying into his eyes. “No! If I hadn’t known, I’d have thought you’ve been doing this for years.”

Jeonghan gave a bark of laughter and turned away. Silly hyung. He should’ve known Seokmin could still see his ears, which were bright pink.

“What are you doing today while hyung is breaking his back to put food in the table, hm, Seokmin-ah?” Jeonghan said. He added, thoughtfully, “Since you’re not starting your training yet, you might as well bring me lunch.” He booped Seokmin on the nose once, taken by his own idea. “Bring me lunch, Seoku.”

Seokmin sighed. “I’ll get something on the way. If I see something nice.”

Jeonghan cheered. He said, “It’s tiring to find places to eat in a new place,” and disappeared into his room. He re-emerged carrying a sturdy-looking knapsack into which he stuffed some of the puffy toys they’d bought on a whim. “To remember you by,” he told Seokmin with a straight face.

Seokmin replied, just as deadpan: “Gee, thanks, hyung.”

“Remember to bring me lunch!” Jeonghan called as he went out the door with a wave.

“If I feel like it I will!”

As soon as he left, struck by an idea, Seokmin picked up his phone. “Mingyu-yah,” he said when the call connected. “Mingyu-yah, is there any chance you’re free today?”

 

“Hey, you can see Han River from here!” Seokmin cried out in surprise, bounding towards the grassy banks and scooting back when his shoes began to sink into the earth. The river looked infinitely more calm in the daylight, clear and empty of secrets, just as pretty as when it glittered under a million neon lights in the night. It was maybe Seokmin’s favorite thing about Seoul.

Mingyu, following at his usual gangly pace, and Minghao just behind, both smirked at him. “What, never seen it before?”

“Jeonghannie-hyung drags me to take walks in front of it practically every night,” Seokmin informed them. He pretended not to notice the looks they exchanged. “It’s really pretty and calming. Do you want to take a selca?”

“These young people and their selfies,” Minghao muttered, like he wasn’t worse than Seokmin. Seokmin wanted them to make cool poses, so grumbling and complaining, they did, and once it was taken Seokmin locked his phone, satisfied. “Did you two eat?”

Mingyu rolled his eyes so hard he must have strained something. “Yes, we ate at the apartment since you made us cook anyway. We have a class in twenty minutes.”

Seokmin made a face. “Bleh. I wanted to have a picnic.”

“Have it with Jeonghan,” Minghao suggested. He ignored the way Mingyu stomped on his foot in warning and smiled at Seokmin, warm. “Since we packed lunch for both of you anyway. He’s in this university, right?”

“It’s not his lunch hour yet,” Seokmin said. “He never answers his phone, how am I gonna find him?”

Minghao shrugged; not his problem. “Use your special flat-sharing senses,” he suggested. “Speaking of, how’s that been going for you? He’s still an angel?”

Seokmin snorted. “Jeonghannie-hyung is Jeonghannie-hyung.”

Minghao nodded as if he’d said something profound. “I suppose calling him an angel is like calling Mingyu the perfect boyfriend.”

“Hey!” Mingyu said, looking outraged around the mouthful of food he’d just eaten. Seokmin grabbed the bag of lunchboxes before he could eat any more. “I clean, I listen well, I’m funny, and I literally just made all of us food. I was just testing those, by the way.”

“You ate all my chicken!” Seokmin whined, checking.

“Just give that box to Jeonghan,” Mingyu said airily. He wiped his mouth with his hand and gave them both a bright, boyish grin. “Out of the two of you, you deserve the chicken more.”

“You don’t know that,” Seokmin said, miffed on Jeonghan’s behalf. “He could be nicer than me.”

Minghao said, “Su~~re,” kind of disbelievingly, and held his palms up when Seokmin made faces at him. “I mean, he could be. It’s just that his genre is so different from yours, it’s kind of hard to see how you guys would fit.”

Minghao had mastered Korean from a mishmash of sources, and sometimes sounded more poetic or archaic than people normally spoke in daily life. Seokmin usually got the feel for what he said pretty clear, but in this he was lost. “His genre?” Seokmin asked, cocking his head.“You mean how he’s beautiful?”

“That’s part of it, sure,” Minghao said, with a sharp glance at Mingyu, who’d opened his mouth to say something. “I mean, we’re happy if you are, and if you’re happy to be rooming with Jeonghan then good for you.”

“But if you don’t,” Mingyu cut in, “then we know a place that’s just as cheap. A friend of ours just moved out from our building.”

Seokmin blinked between them, bewildered. “Guys—”

“It’s just an option,” Minghao said. “Just in case. Think about it. You usually take about a week to make decisions like this, anyway.”

“I’m happy as I am,” Seokmin said firmly, and it was their turn to look surprised. “Our apartment is nice, Jeonghannie-hyung and I have cups that match, and if I go he’s the type to get really lonely, and so am I. Besides,” he said, frankly, “it’s really fun, being with him.”

Mingyu looked away, his jaw tight. Minghao just smiled.

“That’s good to hear, then. We’ll tell Soonyoung too, I hear he’s been worried about you. You’re not overspending?”

“No, I have a lot saved up from my part time job back home,” Seokmin said, still vaguely defensive. “And the company gives us an allowance every month for living expenses, since the band trainees don’t have a dorm.”

“Nice.” Minghao shouldered his bag and grabbed Mingyu by the arm, steering him purposefully along the river bank towards the campus. “Your grandma’s well?”

“Yes,” Seokmin said, relaxing. “Where are you going?”

“Lectures!” Minghao waved. “Say hi to her for us! And call Soonyoung once in a while, he misses you!”

Seokmin watched them go, a thin boy dragging a giant around, like they were still ten and Minghao was the biggest of them all. In his arms the lunches were still warm.

Affection, hot and sudden like lava, bubbled inside him and he cupped his free hand over his mouth.

“I love you guys!” he bellowed after them.

Mingyu made a heart back, tripping over his legs, and Minghao laughed.

When they turned a corner and were out of sight, Seokmin rustled open the bag and peered inside. “Guess we’ll have to share the chicken,” he mumbled sadly to himself as he prodded at it. “Kim Mingyu, you suck.”

Someone snorted from close by and Seokmin looked up, startled, to find Jeonghan smiling faintly at him from behind the shade of the trees, his face in shadow, his hands in his pockets.

“Let’s eat,” he said, with a look on his face Seokmin didn’t recognize. He turned around and walked into the shade, taking long strides that crunched loudly on the dead leaves on the ground, and didn’t turn back when Seokmin started tripping after him to link their arms.

“Hyung,” Seokmin said, taken aback. “Hyung, what’s wrong?”

Jeonghan stopped short in his march in the woods and stood, framed by the rise of trees and lit by a thousand flecks of sunlight. He rolled his shoulders with a _crick_ , and, looking back, smiled at Seokmin. “Hm? _Is_ there something wrong?”

“No, that’s what I’m asking you,” Seokmin said, smiling tentatively back. It took properly when Jeonghan reached out to take his hand and he swung them back and forth, reassured. “Isn’t this spot good enough? I’m kind of hungry, hyung.”

“No, no, too sunny,” Jeonghan complained. He pointed at a clearing, miraculously shady. “That’s much better.”

“We’re just going to be eating anyway,” Seokmin said as they settled. He toed off his shoes for good measure, and stomped a bit to feel the clean earth feeling of the grass as Jeonghan unpacked the lunchboxes and took out chopsticks from his bag.

When he finally settled down, Jeonghan held out his food for him to take. “I thought you were hungry,” he said. He tilted it out of Seokmin’s grip when he reached out for it, a grin hooking on his lips. “Express how hungry you are through aegyo.”

“ _Jeonghannie-hyung, Theoku is very~~ hungry,”_ Seokmin said instantly.

Jeonghan laughed. “Acknowledged. Enjoy your no-chicken.”

After Seokmin had aegyo’d half of Jeonghan’s chicken off of him, they began to eat, breaking off only for appreciation and commentary about how good Mingyu was at cooking. Mingyu was one of those infinitely capable handyman type of guys, the kind of guy Seokmin never saw on movies about zombie apocalypses because it wouldn’t have affected him at all.

“Sounds like you really miss them,” Jeonghan said, after Seokmin told him about Mingyu’s first cooking experiment, involving a tomato, an egg and a microwave and very little else.

“I really do,” Seokmin said, stuffing his mouth with more rice. “Seoul isn’t anything like I imagined. Boo. The people are mean on buses and I hardly see any of my old friends anymore.”

“So move in with them,” Jeonghan said, so mildly Seokmin didn’t register what he was suggesting, at first. “If you live in the same building with them the chances of running into each other and hanging out are higher, right? And my plan was to live on my own in Seoul, so I could get back on track with that. We were flatmates for a few weeks and it was nice, but you shouldn’t overthink it.”

The shellshock of it robbed Seokmin of words. An unexpected hit from an unsuspected location. Something inside Seokmin was curling up, alone and scared and denfenseless. 

“Think about it,” Jeonghan said, brushing stray pieces of rice off of him and climbing on to his feet. He looked at Seokmin, still nonchalant. “It’s a big decision, after all. Do what you like.”

“Hyung, I don’t—”

“Sorry, Seokminnie, I don’t have time to stay,” Jeonghan said, shouldering his bag. “Let’s talk when we’re home, okay?”

He gave a final smile, too-shimmery, fake, and walked away without giving Seokmin a chance to say more.

 

They didn’t talk about it till Seokmin climbed into bed that night, heartsick and resigned to losing sleep with the unbearable weight of it. Jeonghan perched on the edge of his bed so delicately that it took Seokmin a while to realize he was there.

“I overheard you talking with your friends,” Jeonghan admitted into the darkness, lit only by the slants of streetlight that pushed intrusive fingers through the curtains. Seokmin stayed very still. “When you said you wanted to stay here for me. I know you were being considerate. I just really hate that kind of thing.”

Seokmin rolled over to look at him, stricken. His eyes felt impossibly huge, too big for his head.

“You don’t have to tell me that that’s how relationships work, because I already know,” Jeonghan said, staring straight ahead at something Seokmin couldn’t quite see. “But when people try to be considerate, or when they try to pity me, it’s disconcerting for me. Like I can’t tell why they’re really doing those things. That’s why it was hard for me, when I fell behind when I was training. I couldn’t handle it.” His shoulders slumped. The forced smile in his voice was straining, and it made Seokmin’s heart hurt. “That’s why it’s better for me to be alone, anyway. Whenever I get close to someone it ends up like this. So you should stop thinking about me so much. I’ll be fine.”

“Hyung,” Seokmin said, desperately. “It’s not like I’m perfect, I’m not doing it only for you—”

“That’s exactly it,” Jeonghan said, and climbed off the bed. The spot he’d been sitting felt suddenly cold. “You’re too kind for my feelings not to have affect your decisions.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is,” Jeonghan said. “Seokminnie, you came to Seoul because you wanted to be where your friends were, didn’t you?”

Seokmin frowned at him helplessly. “Yeah?”

“It’s been your dream to live here with them, right?”

“Yes, hyung, but—”

“So that’s what you have to do,” Jeonghan said. “It would be uncomfortable for me if you put that on hold for my sake. Right?”

Something terrible and dark and sad passed through Seokmin, like a shadow. He turned away from Jeonghan and closed his eyes.

“I don’t want to get angry at you,” Seokmin said. “Good night, hyung.”

He heard the creak of the door when Jeonghan left, and then he was alone.  

 

_Hyung, did you know? You used to make fun of me for getting carried away in the flow of things, but that night you called me stubborn like you hated me for it. And you were right, hyung. I’m indecisive, I’m inconsistent, it’s hard for me to stick to things. But I know when I’m right, and I was right then._

_I wasn’t going to become the kind of guy who thought it was okay to hurt you just because you smiled at me and said it was. I didn’t want the kind of shallow relationship where I left you behind when I felt like it. I didn’t want you to break your promise and get rid of me before you got tired of me._

_I moved to Seoul to be close to the ones I loved, but who were you to tell me who that was?_


	3. one bad night

The next morning Seokmin didn’t bother getting out of bed when the sounds of Jeonghan quietly getting ready woke him. As he played dead his hand strayed to his chest and felt his heartbeat against his palm, unrelenting. A few minutes after he heard the snap of the door he climbed out and dressed himself in the empty silence and, for lack of anything better to do, stared at the spots on the ceiling until it was time for him to go to the studio, not thinking of anything at all.

Before it was eight o’clock, Seokmin was already ready to crawl home and pass out in whatever mess of the blankets he’d left his bed in in the morning and never wake up, never face any of his friends again.

The restaurant he was waiting for Soonyoung in was called Jackson’s and it was vaguely dark and scary, like how Seokmin was starting to get used to most things in Seoul being. The heat was turned up and he was starting to sweat, just about bearable, but Soonyoung would overheat in a matter of seconds. It was a couple of minutes’ walk away from the company building, Jihoon’s twenty-four hour studio and all the practice that was still there to be done. Seokmin would still be dizzy with chords and beats along with the rest of the band if Soonyoung hadn’t called him out to eat.

The invitation alone would have been enough to make him happy if it wasn’t for what Soonyoung actually said, which was: _I need to tell you something. It’s serious. Can you come to Jackson’s?_

Seokmin was trying to be inconspicuous. He was shaking his legs and looking down at the menu on the table in front of him like he wanted to memorize it. He’d been looking at the same picture of a greasy lamb kebab for the whole time he was here, but him not being able to focus was not a new thing.

Someone tapped him on the shoulder, and Seokmin tensed before he looked up. Soonyoung was standing backlit by the fluorescent lights, tired and stretched-looking in a practice T-shirt, cheeks puffed in a smile.

“Did you wait for long?” he said, brushing his hands on his jeans.

Seokmin shook his head. “I, uh.” He tried to play off the way he knew he must look, panicky slant of his shoulders. “Your text kinda scared me, Soonie, so I came as quickly as I could.”

Soonyoung grimaced, like he’d hoped Seokmin had forgotten that he’d sent a text and scared Seokmin half to death in the process. He slipped into the seat across from Seokmin’s, stalling. Soonyoung always stalled when things got bad and Seokmin _hated_ it.

“Did you order?”

Seokmin attempted a smile. It hung off his lips creaking and fake. “No, not yet. The lamb kebab looks good.”

“I’ll go and order then.”

“Don’t they have—” but Soonyoung was already off before he could finish his sentence. Seokmin watched him go, feeling his pulse fracture.

Soonyoung came back not long after, catching Seokmin in the middle of going back through Jeonghan’s old messages and after-work whining, which was better than sitting in the silence with his thoughts alone.

“Hyung,” Seokmin said as soon as Soonyoung was seated, because he couldn’t take it. “Hyung, what did you mean? Why did you want to talk?”

Soonyoung’s pretty dark eyes scanned across his face. “Who were you texting?”

“I was—oh, Jeonghan,” Seokmin said, reluctantly.

A dark expression flashed across Soonyoung’s small face, unhappy frustration as dark as the starless sky.

“You were smiling,” he said.

“He sent me a picture of a dog he saw on his way home from uni last week, Soonyoung, it really isn’t important,” Seokmin said. He felt like he was fracturing, tearing apart with the strain of being angry at Jeonghan and having Jeonghan be such a, such a _dumbass._ And now this, with Soonyoung. “Just tell me the bad news first.”

Soonyoung said, “I found something out, Seoku.”

Seokmin stilled. A roaring noise filled his ears.

_He knew._

Soonyoung knew. 

Seokmin was sure he was going to cry. He was going to burst into tears in the middle of this colddarkscary restaurant in Seoul, in the middle of the crumbling of the infrastructure of half a decade of lying to himself and everyone else about his feelings, about how he felt for Soonyoung who’d never see him as more than a kid _—_

“It’s about Jeonghan.”

All of Seokmin’s muscles, braced for rejection, tightened further in desperate confusion. It felt dangerously hot in the room, dizzying, and Soonyoung was watching him so so close. “About…Jeonghan?”

Soonyoung nodded, quick and clipped. “He used to be a trainee at the agency, Seoku. He’s been lying to us. To you.”

Seokmin blink-blink-blinked. 

Quick, stupid adrenaline rush. It was too early for relief when Soonyoung’s back was hooked into a small narrow curve, worry and concern bleeding out of him, but. Nevertheless, Seokmin felt almost drunk with it.

“Jeonghannie-hyung’s just a very careful kind of person, Soonie,” he said. “He doesn’t talk about himself a lot. He’s not lying. He’d never.”

Wrong thing to say. Soonyoung’s face twisted, mouth warping into a distinctly bitter shape.

Seokmin shoved his hands under the table to hide how badly they were shaking. First Jeonghan, now Soonyoung, he thought, feeling sick. Maybe last night was a hellish nightmare that he still hadn’t woken up from.

“I wish you’d learned not to trust so easily, Seokmin-ah,” Soonyoung said, sounding weary, beaten down, nothing like how his Soonyoung should sound. Seokmin’s heart twisted.

Agreement was on the tip of his tongue; it would have been so easy to say yes and make Soonyoung happy, but:

“Jeonghan isn’t like that, though?” Seokmin said without thinking. “He’s only pretending to be shady so people won’t find out how kind he really is. Kind of introverted, but not in a bad way.”

Soonyoung’s eyes darted all across his face, scanning. He seemed almost desperate to find something.

“Soonyoung?”

Ignoring Seokmin, Soonyoung clambered to his feet. “You sound like you’re in love with him,” Soonyoung said, obvious in his hurt.

“Soonyoung, wait, no—”

“I have practice,” Soonyoung said, stiffly. He turned and his hand accidentally knocked Seokmin’s phone off the table, sending it clattering to the floor. “Ah,” he said, insincere. “Sorry.”

And then he was gone.

Seokmin sat in the diner alone, this time trying not to cry.

 

_Although it was April, the wind at night felt cold like we were still frozen in winter. It was no different from where we grew up near the mountains._

_I had thought Seoul was a warmer place._

 

Seokmin went back to the apartment and blew off the rest of the studio session, found a way to sneak out of when Jeonghan came home without making a noise and spent the night just sitting in front of Han river watching the lights twinkle on the water. He didn't really want to talk to anybody. The next day he’d go to practice and try not to fuck up or think about Jeonghan or Soonyoung too bad, maybe spend the night at Hao and Mingyu's place. Working on music had always worked as a distraction, back when he was alone in his hometown, so it’d work just as well in Seoul. Jihoon would probably appreciate the effort.

It didn’t turn out quite as he’d thought.

After three days had dragged on, at the tail end of another unsuccessful studio session, Jihoon said in a decided fashion:

“Pack your things, we’re going out.”

Seokmin was slow to look up from his guitar, sluggish and preoccupied. He’d been messing up all day. “But we haven’t done anything in the evening session.”

“No evening session today,” said Wonwoo. “It’s mandatory for all of us to go out on Thursdays. It’s a team bonding experience for us to watch Jihoon drink until he passes out.”

“And it keeps us from working too hard,” Joshua added. His kind eyes crinkled at Seokmin’s expression. “Close your mouth, Seoku, flies will be tempted. Don’t you want to go out with us?”

“I do,” Seokmin said, flushing.

He shook his head, hard enough to whip his bangs into his eyes, and smiled at Joshua. “I haven’t had time to go out since I came here. Thanks for taking me, hyung.”

Joshua ruffled his hair with affection. “It’s nice to see you excited, Seokminnie.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “You know, we’re all kind of quiet and no-jam, so everyone’s secretly relieved to have someone high-tension on the team.”

The idea stumped Seokmin, who had witnessed what a well-oiled music machine the three of them were. Next to Seokmin, Wonwoo was the one who’d joined last, and he’d already been here for a year. Their impromptu jamming sessions went through some telepathic connection they developed that connected all the parts together and gave it a smooth polish in the likes of a song that had been on the drawing board for ages. In contrast, Seokmin lived in a constant state of awful beginner’s nerves, and always had to have things explained to him, usually by Joshua since the other two lacked the patience. Joshua’s unfailing kindness always made him feel even more out of place. He was a discordant note in an otherwise perfect composition.

He exhaled shakily. So there _was_ something he could give them.

Not that his week-long sulk would have helped the team in any way.

“I’ll help to keep your spirits up,” he promised.

Joshua smiled. “You always do. Keep up the good work, maknae.”

Jihoon called for them and Joshua helped Seokmin put away his guitar case and amp. Once they were outside, Jihoon’s shivering fingers carefully tapped out the address of the bar they were headed on Seokmin’s phone.

“Just in case,” he said blithely, pushing past Seokmin to take the lead. “Can you hurry up,” he added, glaring at Wonwoo who was struggling to get his longer frame into the same coat as Seokmin. “You know, you wouldn’t be cold in the first place if you walked a little faster, Wonu-ya.”

Wonwoo, hunched under Seokmin’s awkwardly extended arm, snorted. “Ignore Jihoon. He’s just a tiny ball of ice and grumps.” He nudged closer to Seokmin. “But how exactly are you this warm, Seoku?”

“I’m not warm if you steal it all off me,” Seokmin pointed out.

“I think all our problems will be solved if we walked faster,” said Wonwoo.

“That’s literally what _I just said,”_ Jihoon shrieks, his tiny teeth now chattering.

The ensuing fight dragged into the bar, through the crowded tables, and right up until Seokmin gave a yelp.

Jihoon and Wonwoo stopped bickering; Joshua looked up from his phone, and from where he was seated, Soonyoung looked at him, his eyes impossibly wide.

For a single, wretched moment Seokmin thought: _this is it. He’s going to pretend not to know me._

The lights at the bar seemed to go dim, the world flushing out of color.

“Hyung?” he tried, on a wisp of a breath.

And the parts of Soonyoung that were still recognizably _Soonyoung_ made sure that he leapt to his feet. If Seokmin reached out a hundred times, Soonyoung would answer that call each time. For now. Soon enough they would—

Soonyoung threw his arms around Seokmin before he could finish the thought. He was warm, compact, and fit neatly into the brackets Seokmin’s arms made.

“I  missed you, Mouse,” he said fiercely. “Not being around you is no fun.”

Seokmin’s heart gave a jolt. “Me too, hyung,” he said as he buried his nose in Soonyoung’s dark, slightly sweaty hair.

Soonyoung drew him closer for one more bone-deep squeeze before he let go. When they were kids, hugs were his go-to remedy for anything from a scraped knee to Seokmin’s inexplicable fits of clinginess. The hugs never lasted long enough.

“Seoku’s friends!” he crowed at the amused crowd of his bandmates, who were settling at the table Soonyoung had launched himself from. “Or should I say, Dokyeom-gun’s co-workers.”

Joshua smiled up at him. “We haven’t debuted yet. You must be Soonyoung, Minghao and Mingyu. We’ve heard a lot.”

Mingyu and Minghao raised their glasses at them while Soonyoung beamed. He was slightly tipsy, working his way up to being terribly excited about nothing:  when he and Jihoon faced each other he let out a pterodactyl screech.

“I was training to be an idol before I switched over to the band,” Jihoon explained to the table, raising his voice to be heard over Soonyoung’s incoherent babble as they all sat down with their orders. “We briefly trained together.”

“Weird how these things work out,” Mingyu said mildly.

“Yeah, weird.”

Everyone took a sip of their drinks. Seokmin drank his beer steadily. It didn’t help to be sober if things were going to continue being awkward with Soonyoung.

He looked back up when someone clapped their hands once, ostentatiously.

“Well,” said the tiny boy sitting next to Soonyoung. “Shall we go through the official introductions then? I’m Chan, and I’m a trainee too.”

“Do we need to be that formal, though?”

“There’s too many people to remember the names of all at once.”

“Woozi-ya, Wonwoo-ya,” Joshua said warningly. “Be nice.”

Seokmin caught Chan’s eye and grinned. “I’m Seokmin.”

Chan smiled back. It had kind of dimmed when Jihoon and Wonwoo were speaking, which made Seokmin feel kind of bad, and somehow responsible. “The hyungs are always on the lookout for dongsaengs to tease. Usually it’s me.”

“It’s how we show our love, Seokmin-ah,” Wonwoo called from his end of the table, raising his head from his conversation with Mingyu.

“Yeah, hyung, I know!” Seokmin turned back to Chan. “There you have it. Doesn’t Soonyoungie do the same thing?”

Chan’s eyes darted downward. He seemed younger than all of them, and more unsure of himself than anyone else. It brought a pang to Seokmin’s chest. God, was he even old enough to drink?

“Soonyoung-hyung is the top-ranked trainee in the agency, and a sure bet to debut,” Chan said. “For anyone to acknowledge me, I have to beat his evaluation scores first. He’s my rival. I want him to take me seriously.”

Seokmin was startled by the idea of someone straining to catch up to Soonyoung. It didn’t match up with his own vision of him, which was laughing, joyful, and had always been a million miles ahead. Soonyoung was the guy who turned around and asked if you were okay and helped you become better. Soonyoung was an ideal; a whimsical, unattainable dream.

In his head, Jeonghan said, _you haven’t even tried._

Seokmin finished off the rest of his beer and blamed it for the way he was overwarm, strangely distraught. Like he was on the very edge of a cliff, peering down.

“Then you should practice hard,” he told Chan, shaken to the core. “Keep trying till your feelings reach him.”

Chan looked directly into his eyes, searching. His stare had an almost unbearable weight.

“You’re as kind as Soonyoung-hyung said you were.”

Seokmin faltered. “I—I don’t think—”

Before he could formulate a reply, he was startled by a hand gripping his wrist. Chubby fingers, couple ring; Seokmin knew who it was before he spoke and tried hard not to flinch. “I’m back,” Soonyoung said, his eyes running between the two of them, his mouth set in the shape of a question. “What did I miss?”

“All the good stuff,” Seokmin said, smiling. He gently extricated his hand from Soonyoung’s, keeping his smile fixed as he stood up. “I’m gonna go out for a second. Um, bathroom break.”

“Wait, Seokmin,” Soonyoung said. “Can we go someplace quiet to talk, after?”

Seokmin could think of nothing worse.

“Sure thing, hyung,” he said. “Just let me pee first, okay?”

“Don’t sing too loud in the toilets, only weirdos do that in public!” Soonyoung said.

“I promise!” Seokmin called over his shoulder, all forced cheer, and met Chan’s eye by accident. The resignation there made him want to throw up.

Seokmin ended up taking a wrong turn and stumbling out into a smoker’s area sparsely populated by kissing couples. He braced his arms against the railing and closed his eyes. He didn’t know what he was doing.

Coming here was a bad idea; now he had nothing to distract him. He didn’t want to think. This was bad, this was a _disaster,_ he had to shake off the layer of weirdness, except he was five years old again and loneliness was weighing him down like cartoon anvils around his feet, monsters in every dark corner and friendless and familyless and—

His phone buzzed.

 **Jeonghan <3: ** _say hi to your friends for me!_

Seokmin’s breath hitched. After all the silence— after _days_ of avoiding each other—

 **Jeonghan <3: ** _Yah. Don’t ignore your hyung._

He must be getting anxious, Seokmin thought incredulously. What a Jeonghannie-hyung thing to do.

He typed out a reply without thinking.

 **Me:** _what friends? I have no friends._

 **Jeonghan <3: ** _Stop lying to hyung and show me Soonyoungie’s precious cheeks! Ah, it’s been so long, I miss his cuteness._

 **Me:** _Soonie-hyung’s not here_ _  
_ **Me:** _But I am!_

A moment passed with no reply. Seokmin stood in the cold and wrapped his jacket tighter around his shoulders and tried to hold himself together and not think about anything at all.

The ringing of his phone made him yelp, and confused and startled, he wondered why, exactly, his flatmate was calling him at this hour.

“Jeonghannie-hyung?”

“Wave your hands, I can’t see you,” said Jeonghan, in his usual brisk voice. “What color are your clothes? Ah, the pink sweater.”

And then, like magic, he was there. Wearing his round glasses, his hair in his face, Seokmin’s coat flaring out like wings behind him.

Seokmin’s heart caught in his throat.

“I came to see you,” Jeonghan said.

Seokmin gulped in a big, shaking inhale, and he couldn’t even think, and he put his arms around Jeonghan’s neck and pressed his face into Jeonghan’s shoulder and let himself crack apart like a dam breaking.

“I wanted to see you,” he wailed.

Jeonghan was smiling when he reached out for him. He let Seokmin bury his head in his chest and breathe in the warm floral fabric-softener smell of him and wrapped his arms tight around him.

“There you go, being a baby again,” said Jeonghan. “I thought you were grown up now.”

Seokmin shook his head. His tears were staining Jeonghan’s shirt. _I missed you,_ he wanted to say, _why didn’t you come sooner,_ but what came out in a wet burble was: “How could you—how could you just try to kick me out of our apartment?”

Jeonghan was silent for a while.

Then, as familiar sadness began to curdle thick in Seokmin’s stomach, Jeonghan sighed. “You’re never getting rid of me now.”

Then he added, almost inaudibly,

“Seokminnie, let’s go home.”

 

_If only Jeonghannie-hyung saw me as more than a kid, he’d be the love of my life: that’s a thought I used to have a lot back then. However, if we did start something, I doubt we would have only had the good times._

_So maybe I was glad. Maybe I shut my eyes to all the signs because I was so desperate to stay at your side._


	4. Interlude: Jeonghan

 

_Yah, our Seokminnie. Do you remember how we met?_

_I’m not into kiddie stuff like fate, you know that, I used to tell you over and over:_ nothing’s written in the stars for us, Seokmin-ah _._

_How we met was a coincidence. This was all just a coincidence._

_Trust hyung on this._

 

Jeonghan’s short-lived inclination (it was nothing as grand as a dream) to become an idol unexpectedly reared its head again when he was twenty-one, almost four years after he’d quit training to go to college. It came and went in a flash, but it was intense, a longing that left a deep impression on Jeonghan, who wasn’t easily moved or shaken despite the romance that his appearance suggested. In that instant, he craved attention and adoration and a spotlight on him.

Then he remembered all the reasons that life wasn’t for him but the vision didn’t lose its thrill, instead grew sharper still, gaining momentum till Jeonghan could hear a crowd’s frenzied cheers ringing in his ears.

All of this, just from looking at one boy.

A secondhand dream, was how Jeonghan thought of it. The boy in the train had fire in him, and coiled ambition like he was an atomic bomb waiting to go off. He had the most intense eyes Jeonghan had ever seen. He was beautiful in the way all things that were intrinsically _real_ were beautiful.

Jeonghan didn’t deal with people who threw him off the curve very well. He resolved not to talk to the boy at all.

That went to hell in a matter of seconds.

But even later, when it turned out that the boy’s name was Lee Seokmin, and that he was absolutely, hopelessly, endearingly naïve, Jeonghan’s initial impression didn’t fade. As hopeless and kind as Lee Seokmin was, he was still a kid that _belonged_ on a stage.

He just happened to be a lot of fun to hang out with as well.

“Jeonghannie, look, what am I,” Seokmin burst out, randomly. His shyness had faded fast; now he was so loud Jeonghan had to periodically boop his nose to make him lower his volume before the rest of the passengers started throwing things at them. Jeonghan couldn’t get mad at him, either, because Seokmin genuinely got excited enough to forget where he was sometimes. His artlessness was only cute because it was so natural.

Jeonghan looked at him and his laugh took him by surprise; he let out an ugly snort. “What? You look like a croissant.”

Seokmin kept making the weird face. “No, hyung, I’m a mackerel!” he said. “Look, he’s staying still in the water so the grizzlies won’t notice him.”

“Those are salmon, you fool,” Jeonghan said, giggling.    

The weird face eased and the pout became more pointed and Jeonghan chastised himself internally for finding it ridiculous and endearing instead of tiresome. He was here to nap, dammit.

“Tell me more about Soonyoung,” he coaxed.

It was amazing to see how quickly Seokmin brightened. His earlier indignation had been a front – he was amazingly mild-tempered—but the joy that washed over all his handsome elegant features was completely genuine, completely real. He was lit up from the inside with his feelings.

 _Ah,_ Jeonghan thought, almost envious. _Young love._

“We’re really different, you know,” he drawled, as Seokmin’s patter started to slow, grow self-conscious. He wasn’t over-sensitive, Jeonghan thought, as much as he was considerate. He hadn’t known kids like this existed anymore. “Isn’t it tiresome to pine for someone for so long? After you found out his flaws, even.”

“Ah, but Soonyoungie’s temper isn’t really a flaw, though?” Seokmin said. Jeonghan thought, idly: _does he always get this worked up about his crush?_ The thought was almost immediately followed by: _it’s pretty cute_.

Jeonghan frowned to himself, displeased.

“I like that he gets so passionate about things,” Seokmin was saying, oblivious. “And he’s so open, you can see what he’s thinking on his face. I really like that. Even when he’s angry he doesn’t try to hide it. One time, back in high school, our friend Mingyu cheated at a game and Soonyoungie got really mad but then he just started laughing. He said, e _ven I have no idea why I’m so angry.”_

Jeonghan smiled. “You’re stupidly transparent as well. Sounds like you were made for each other.”

Seokmin went pink and began to rock from side to side, delighting Jeonghan by how shy he suddenly was being. “Ah, well, you know.”

“Is this what rockstars are like these days,” Jeonghan teased. “Where’s all this aegyo going to go when you’re screaming onstage?”

Seokmin seemed undeterred, blushing a little but accepting it for what it was, a compliment. “I’m kind of used to getting taken care of,” he admitted, “so I’m still too soft to be in a rock band, I think. But I’m trying to change,”  he added, halting his swaying with a slight frown on his face. “After I move to Seoul, I’ll be in complete charge of my life.”

Jeonghan privately thought that his attempt to sound serious was adorable, like a kitten trying to roar.  

Then it occurred to him that if he wanted to change, he wasn’t that different from Jeonghan after all.

“Tell me how that works out for you,” he said instead, gentler than he was planning to, and received a wild, bright smile in response.

 

“Where will you stay?” fretted his new favorite dongsaeng before they parted. Jeonghan liked the grip of Seokmin’s fingers on his, how they felt warm and steady and comforting, not that Jeonghan needed it. “Hyung, just come with us. Myungho and Mingyu won’t mind.”

“Yah,” said Jeonghan. “Don’t you trust your hyung? I told you I got it covered.”

“But why would you stay in a hotel when your friends have room for you to stay? It’s just for a night, Jeonghannie.”

Seokmin was perhaps the least thrifty person he knew; his compulsive snack and souvenir-buying bore witness to that, and there was no _way_ he knew how pricey hotels on this side of Seoul were. Jeonghan racked his brains for the reason for his behavior before he realized: Seokmin was _worried_ for him.

Jeonghan felt a rush of helpless affection, watching as Seokmin ignored his friends’ disagreeing noises in favor of leaning even closer, so close that Jeonghan could see the trapped lights of the displays dance inside the pupils of his eyes. He was almost painfully handsome, and so, so oblivious to how tempting it was to fist a hand in his hair and kiss him breathless.

Tempting, but amazingly dumb. For one thing, they were going to be flatmates.

“But I’m not staying in a hotel,” Jeonghan said, gently extricating his hands from Seokmin’s. His own hand curled in on itself, suddenly cold. “I have a friend who lives close by. I’ll room with him for the night. Then we’ll meet, bright and early tomorrow morning to go look at the place?”

Seokmin nodded. “What time?”

“Eleven earliest,” Jeonghan said, full of cheer.

Seokmin gave a small snicker. “You really are a pro at resting. Call me?”

“Sure, Seokminnie. Take care on the way home,” he addressed the whole group for the last part, Mingyu who was hovering at the edge of the conversation and Minghao, further away, clearly unbothered. They were a good combination, Jeonghan thought. How Seokmin had survived all these years became more clear after meeting his lifelong friends.

He got three nods in reply, with varying enthusiasm. Well. He couldn’t have it all.

He turned smartly on his heel once goodbyes were over. He’d forgotten how biting-cold nights in Seoul could be; he’d packed carelessly, preoccupied.

Seokmin’s bright smile strayed through his mind, without warning: _sorry I don’t have my own to offer you._

Jeonghan shook his head, clearing it of clutter. None of that was any use to him at that moment: his desperation to start over in Seoul, or the strange puppy-boy’s unusual kindness.

He found the building he was looking for with ease. It hadn’t changed at all, from its graffiti-ridden back wall to the dozing security guard at the door. Three flights of stairs, every step throwing out a different squeaky sound, then into a hallway to find apartment number fourteen. He knocked on the door and waited.

“You could at least get the elevator fixed,” was the first thing he said, when the door clicked open.

“I’ve got used to the extra cardio.”

Jeonghan snorted. “Sounds like you.”

“It _does_ sound like me,” said Joshua, smiling wicked and honey-sweet. “It’s been a while, Jeonghan-ah. It’s good to see you.”

Jeonghan smiled back, his usual reserved smile. The day’s events hadn’t been kind to his stamina. _Seokmin_ in general drained his energy alarmingly fast, not that he noticed while it was happening.

“Not good enough to invite me in?”

Joshua’s cheer didn’t fade. “Your sharp tongue is the same as ever. Come in, come in. Would you like some tea? Or I have beer.”

“Just water is fine,” Jeonghan said, measuring. “Do you have any of those mints you always used to eat?”

“Sure,” Joshua called from the sink. “Gimme a sec.”

“What’s new with you, Shua-yah?” Jeonghan drawled as he filled a glass from the tap. “We haven’t talked since the week before.”

Jisoo shrugged.

With his head turned, Jeonghan was free to observe how he’d changed. Had his shoulders got broader?  His smile-lines more pronounced? The way he spoke definitely wasn’t as gentle as it used to be. “Same old, really. Practice, writing lyrics, trying to stop the kids from killing each other. Oh, and I heard we’re going to have a new member soon.”

“Huh,” Jeonghan said. “This close to debut?”

Another shrug. “Apparently he’s some kind of prodigy. You know the type,” he added, and the curve of his smile was knowing, wry. Jeonghan had history with prodigies. “Here you go.”

“Thanks,” Jeonghan murmured, flicking his tongue out to swipe at the corner of his lips. The familiarity of the shabby-but-comfortable apartment and Jisoo’s proximity were crossing and uncrossing in Jeonghan’s head. They’d been so good together. “And thanks for finding that apartment for me. It looked pretty in the photos.”

“Mm,” said Joshua, low-voiced.

“I’m thinking of co-letting,” Jeonghan continued, dropping his voice to its raspiest register. It didn’t escape his notice how Jisoo’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “I met a guy on the train.”

“That’s…not really good enough reason to get him to co-let.”

Jeonghan laughed, a breathy little thing. He was aware that he was being dumb, too impulsive, to be doing this _again._

“We had sex the first time we met,” he pointed out.

Jisoo caught his eye, pure electricity and adrenaline.

“I know about your dumb rules,” he said, “but once, for old times’ sake?”

He was on his knees before Jeonghan could finish nodding yes.

 

By mutual agreement, sex with Jisoo was a one-off thing, a reckless throwback to their dark and hormone-ridden teenage years. Jisoo even had the bad taste to call it a welcome back present —which Jeonghan wrinkled his nose at— before he dropped into sleep. He was gone by the time Jeonghan woke up. His fridge was empty, the whole apartment bare, seemingly, of anything except endless books full of guitar chords. Jeonghan, out of pettiness, didn't lock the door on his way out. 

His puppy-flatmate was waiting for him outside the address Jeonghan had given him. He was fiddling with his phone, making all kinds of hilarious faces at the screen as if whoever he was texting could see them.  _Soonyoung,_ Jeonghan thought with amused certainty.

He looked up when Jeonghan coughed ostentatiously, and that— the look in his eyes when he saw Jeonghan, pure awe— had Jeonghan looking down to hide his warm cheeks. 

"Shall we?" he asked the ground. 

Seokmin recovered a little of his natural chattiness on the way up the stairs. "Hyung, do you think we can see the river from the apartment?" he said, and yelled excitedly when Jeonghan gave a nod. "It's really pretty. I took a million selfies while I was waiting for you."

Jeonghan shrugged. He wasn't going to apologize, since he said he'd probably be late, and Seokmin didn't seem to be looking for an apology anyway. Instead he said, "Can I see?" 

"Ah, hyung," Seokmin said, fidgeting, color rising on his cheeks. "We'll take some better ones later."

"Why, are you afraid that your handsomeness will blind me?" Jeonghan said. "Yah, rockstar. Have some confidence."

"I know I'm okay-looking," Seokmin protested. It came out a little too loud; Jeonghan winced and looked around to check for potential angry neighbors while Seokmin went on, oblivious: "It's just that even a lot of nice-looking guys would look plain next to you, hyung. You're so beautiful."

"Don't just  _say_ stuff like that, it's weird," Jeonghan complained, face yanked away so Seokmin wouldn't catch his flush. Seokmin must have caught it nevertheless; his next, "But it's true~~" was playful and teasing, and he dropped the subject after that. Easy as can be. 

Joenghan didn't let himself marvel at that. "This is us," he said briskly on the fourth floor. "It's an old building so we'll have to climb the stairs every day."

"I don't mind," Seokmin said. "I have the energy of four horses, see," he began doing a box-step on the stairs, nearly tripping backwards and crashing into his guitar. 

Jeonghan gave an undignified bark of laughter. "You're really an idiot, Seokmin-ah. Ah, don't pout. I promise, it's cute."

Seokmin continued to pout. But only a little, and even that was forgotten in the rush that followed, making lists and going shopping for furniture. Jeonghan was content to nap through the whole process, satisfied by Seokmin's unexpected homemaking skills; he only needed to keep a lazy eye on things to make sure they weren't being swindled. 

In between breaks, he made Seokmin sing. The kid had an unbelievable voice, so rich and complex that it would have been a crime for him not to go pro, and his power and clean singing were like an extension of his honest personality. They both shared the same taste in songs, Jeonghan realized, but he liked Seokmin's versions better than the originals for how he turned even the saddest ballads into sweet love songs. 

Seokmin could definitely do with some training— get some technique into his raw power— but he was undeniably a spring of talent.

"Jeonghannie-hyung's voice is so nice," said the spring of talent wistfully. 

Jeonghan gaped; first at Seokmin, then in general, realizing, belatedly, that he'd been harmonizing as Seokmin sang, so soft that you couldn't hear it if you weren't listening. Jeonghan hadn't; Seokmin clearly had.

"Ay, what's that, your singing is pure gold," Jeonghan said. His fingers ran across the material of the bed covers of the display bed mindlessly, smoothing patterns. "The company that signed you on knew what they were doing."

"Ah, but hyung's voice is so sweet and clear," Seokmin said. He abandoned his trolley— the pile of pots and pans swayed alarmingly— and picked up Jeonghan's hand and smiled, eyes bright. "I have trouble emoting with my voice, you know? But when hyung sings it sounded so natural. I really like your voice, Jeonghannie."

Jeonghan stared at him for a second, his heart thudding in his ears. Their hands curled together, a perfect fit. Seokmin's palm was dry and warm, rough calluses from his guitar, and Jeonghan's nerves were alight, a shivery feeling in his spine. 

He cuffed Seokmin upside the head. "Yah. What did I tell you about saying weird things," and stood up and hurried to the storefront, where Kyulkyung the sassy shop owner was smirking at him.

"Newlyweds," she said in a knowing tone Jeonghan didn't much care for. "The two of you are very cute."

Jeonghan cut off his own irritable denial, realizing something.

"So, about that couples' discount..."

 

And then they had their apartment full of pretty and cheap furniture that looked out to the river, they had strawberry milk in scotch glasses and breakfast and dinner together over the table they put together, and Jeonghan, for a while, forgot that there ever was a time when the world didn't end and begin with Lee Seokmin—

 

—until Seokmin's friends said,  _His genre is different_ and it didn't even make sense, but it still made Jeonghan's world crack and splinter. Jeonghan's happiness, built on little things, was too fragile to withstand the realization that he might be holding Seokmin back. 

He hated the feeling. Kindness? Consideration? He'd had enough of those when he was a trainee. If people never pitied him again it'd be too soon.

"Seokmin-ah," he said, cajoling.

Seokmin turned away. "I don't want to get angry at you."

He thought he couldn't feel any worse, but then Jeonghan stared at his most sweet-natured dongsaeng's turned back, and, well. 

What was Jeonghan to do, except try to piece together what was left?

 

For three days after that, they didn't speak to each other. Joenghan spent those three days feeling battered and over-sensitive, snapping at everyone at work and slowly sinking into that old version of himself that he truly hated. He blamed it on all the lost sleep.  _Stress Jeonghan,_ Seokmin teased him when he got like this. Used to tease him. Whatever. He also used to quieten down around the apartment out of consideration for Jeonghan's frayed nerves, although he kept slipping up and forgetting, singing loudly for no better reason than that he felt like it. Not much risk of being too loud now; the apartment felt haunted, for how silent it was. 

It took three nights of tossing and turning for him to cave; three nights of going to bed knowing that he’d said something Seokmin found unforgivable, bad enough for him to purse his lips and duck his gaze whenever he spotted Jeonghan around their home. Jeonghan was frustrated with himself for letting it affect him so much. A part of him was yearning desperately for something he refused to name.

The night that Jeonghan caved and went to bring Seokmin home from the bar, he was aware that he was breaking his promise to not ruin friendships much worse than anything he could have done with Joshua.

The last straw was this: Jisoo, calling to ask what was wrong that Thursday night, the sounds of an active social life filtering through the speaker and into Jeonghan’s dark and empty room. He sounded more worried about Jeonghan than Seokmin, and it grated.

“We’re adults, we can settle it for ourselves, Jisoo,” he said, sharply.

“I’m not accusing you of anything, Jeonghan-ah,” Joshua said, and meant _don’t be so goddamn defensive, Jeonghan-ah._ Jeonghan’s skin prickled. “All I’m saying is that you’ve been avoiding my texts, and now Seokminnie’s here looking like he’s got a death sentence waiting at home. Humor me this once and tell me what happened.”

Jeognhan stared down at his hands, folded on his lap. It was nothing short of terrible that even that reminded him of Seokmin, because Seokmin had small, pretty hands that made Jeonghan’s seem huge and blunt in comparison, his fingers going up to Seokmin’s wrist when they held hands. And Jeonghan’s favorite thing in the world was the way Seokmin’s ears went red whenever it happened.

“He’s so kind,” Jeonghan admitted. “He tries to accommodate my selfishness. I hate it when people think they have to be kind to me. And he’s stubborn. I really hate that.”

Joshua laughed softly. “Sounds like a mutual kind of problem.”

“Shut up,” Jeonghan snapped, anger roiling just under the surface. “I don’t need him holding himself back to stay with me. I hated it when I was training and I hate it now.”

People offering to wait, people offering to stay behind to help him catch up. Jeonghan hated to show it when he was struggling, hated owing someone even more. He was never the type to ask for help.  

Before Jeonghan could end the call, Joshua said, “But maybe that’s not what this is about, Jeonghan-ah. It’s time you both grew up a little.” He sounded dry enough and matter-of-fact enough that it stopped Jeonghan in his tracks. “I’ll text you the address of the bar we’re in right now. Get over here and apologize.”

 

And then he was in the bar and—

 

Seokmin looked at him and—

 

“Let’s go home,” Jeonghan said, voice hoarse, hugely affected.

 

Later that night, walking along the river bank, Seokmin said, “I don’t know what Seoul would have been like without you,” in the hushed shy tones of a love confession, only that that it was a different kind of love from Jeonghan’s, only that Soonyoung was the one Seokmin was actually in love with.

Seokmin looked at him and he was beautiful: Jeonghan couldn’t stop himself from reaching out, tracing the column of his throat. His pulse drummed frantically against his fingertips. 

“Hyung?” Seokmin said, sounding strangled. His pupils were blown wide.

Seokmin made people want without meaning to—he made _Jeonghan_  want—and Jeonghan really didn’t know where that left them. He didn’t know how long he could stand to be next to the sun without wanting to stray closer, to _touch._

 _Kiss him,_ something in him urged. _Just lean over and—_

“It would be lonely if you really left,” Jeonghan said instead. He took his hand away, his fingers scorched. “Promise me you won’t leave unless you have a really good reason.”

Seokmin was laughing, confusion and some amusement, licking his lips. Jeonghan yanked his head away. “You asking me to wasn’t good enough?”

Looking at the river, Jeonghan said, “Obviously not.” His voice wavered. It gave away how vulnerable the moment felt, the desperate yearning that had lodged up in Jeonghan’s heart.

Seokmin tightened his grip on his hand.

“I promise,” he said. “Let’s go home, hyung.”

Jeonghan stepped closer, and it felt no different from falling into the sun.

 

It wasn’t that Jeonghan was stupid, he was just too impulsive when it came to certain things. In almost any other aspect of his life –academics, finances, family—he was cautious and shrewd, lingering in the background to scope out a situation instead of jumping into the fray of things. Spontaneity was one thing no one could accuse him of; if anything, he was a tedious overthinker.

As a result he wasn’t the most approachable guy, he knew, and his friend circle reflected that. But the real problem was that he lost even those few friends he had when he inevitably dated and broke up with them.

“That’s kind of oversimplifying it, isn’t it,” Joshua said. Jeonghan very clearly saw him roll his eyes, the grainy quality of their video call notwithstanding. He had a point, a fact that they both knew well, as well as the fact that Jeonghan didn’t appreciate it being brought up.  

Disgruntled, Jeonghan turned on his side on his bed and pouted. “My point is, you and I are a special case. We both know where we stand.”

Jeonghan waited as Joshua tried to parse his sincerity, to see through the complexities of tone and wording and into what Jeonghan was really thinking. When they were dating the habit had driven Jeonghan crazy. _Sometimes what you see is what you get,_ he’d used to say in their fights. _You don’t have to second-guess every word._

To that, Jisoo had scoffed. “With you? Of course I do.”

Their breakup had matured them both: now, Jeonghan bit his lip and waited, and Joshua, when he finally spoke, sounded cautiously positive. “If you’re not in love with me then I don’t see what we have to worry about.”

It was Jeonghan’s turn to roll his eyes. “Not a chance.”

Jisoo smirked, catlike. Jeonghan occasionally really hated how alike they were, but now he took it for granted, the way Jisoo could be counted on to be on the same page at any given time. “That’s what I thought. So what? No more fooling around, even as friends?”

“Yep. I want to meet someone the right way this time.”

Silence fell, as natural as breathing. Jeonghan curled his hands tight around a pillow, looked out from his window, and waited.

As he’d predicted, his next question was, “So we’re really not going to talk about Seokmin?”

Jeonghan grimaced.

He said, “Training up a new roommate to be switch off the lights for me will be a serious pain. If he— if he leaves.”

“Don’t fall for him then,” Jisoo said, seeing, as usual, through all of Jeonghan’s paper-thin masks. “If he’s such a good friend, then keep it that way.”

Jeonghan let out a short scream of frustration. “Easy for you to say, Shua.”

Joshua laughed. “Maybe if you thought reminded yourself why it wouldn’t work out? You’re probably too high maintenance for him to handle.”

“That’s not even a little true,” Jeonghan said with a snort. “Have you _seen_ him sulk? I’m the one always cheering him up.”

Seokmin, contrary to what he himself believed, got annoyed at the drop of a hat. Whenever someone didn’t include him, or made fun of him for too long, storm clouds gathered on his usually sunny face and he buried himself in a terrible sulk. Jeonghan wavered between being amused and exasperated by all the _pouting:_ he usually settled on fond and slightly dry-mouthed, eyes snagging on the perfect pushed-out heart-shape of Seokmin’s lips.

“Feed him donuts when he’s being all moody,” Jeonghan advised. “It’s really tiresome, but feed him sugary snacks and pay him attention and he’ll be back to normal.”

Joshua made a considering noise. “I think Jihoonie will just shout at him.” He blinked his eyes away from the screen for a moment, and when he looked back there was a rueful twist to his mouth. “I have to go, but good luck with your flatmate trouble, okay? Call me if there’s anything.”

Jeonghan rolled his eyes, very slightly.

“And be careful, alright? You don’t usually let your guard down so quickly around people.”

 

The very next morning he was faced with Seokmin at the start of the day, sitting across from him on the table they’d bought together, pouring orange juice into their dumb twin pink scotch glasses. He was sleep-rumpled, the shape of his mouth soft and the bend of his wrist graceful as he poured.

Jeonghan tried not to pay attention to any of these things. “Good morning, Seokminnie.”

Sleep-slitted eyes looked up at him. “Morning, ‘Hannie. Sorry I fell asleep before I could say good night to you last night. I must have been more tired than I thought.”

Jeonghan’s heart gave a warning clench. “That’s right, hyung was very upset. It’s too bad that you don’t love me enough for a little thing like that.”

Seokmin whined, swaying plaintively in his seat. “But I do love you hyung!” He pulled on Jeonghan’s sleeve and made his eyes huge; it was hard to tell, out of the two of them, who enjoyed all their playacting more.

“How much?” Jeonghan asked, still with a showy distressed expression.

Seokmin’s eyes sparkled. “As much as the sun and the sky!” he spread his hands and wriggled in his seat. His aegyo was fun and utterly _shameless;_ the first few weeks, Jeonghan’s own cheeks had blushed bright red just from watching him.

Now it filled him with something like awe and delight. He, Jeonghan, could do with a little shamelessness in his life.

“You have to eat a lot for breakfast,” he nagged. He drew his legs up and settled into his seat, facing Seokmin. “How was practice last night, then?”

Seokmin’s eyes lit up. “It was great! Jihoonie-hyung told me my falsetto was getting more stable and I’m working on memorizing all the song lyrics. And hyung, did you know Wonwoo-hyung could rap?”

Jeonghan shook his head no.

“He sounded _amazing,”_ Seokmin exulted. “His voice is so deep. You have to come and watch us sometime, hyung.”

Jeonghan thought of meeting Joshua and Seokmin in the same room. “If there’s time,” he demurred. “You sing for me all the time anyway, what’s more to see.”

“What about you?” Seokmin asked around a mouthful of toast. He was blushing, a little, pretty lips pushed into a smile. “Did Professor Park give you a hard time again?”

“Hm, no, not really,” Jeonghan said absently. It was easy to get swept up with uncomplicated joy with Seokmin, but it didn’t change the fact that there was a world outside of this comfy little apartment, separate from them both. “Seoku, do you know how old Chan is?”

Seokmin swallowed down the toast puffing up his cheeks and said, curiously, “Chan? Soonie’s friend? I think he’s seventeen.”

Jeonghan nodded. That added up. “I think he goes to school near my university.”

“Whoa, amazing,” Seokmin said. “Did you see him?"

He had a streak of butter glistening on his cheek that Jeonghan unthinkingly thumbed at, spreading it. Seokmin sat uncomplainingly still while Jeonghan rolled his eyes and tried again with a napkin. 

“He’s a baby too," said Jeonghan, when he was done. "A bigger baby than you.”

Seokmin complained, with a pout, "You’re trying to make me jealous, but it’s not working. I know I’m your favorite.”

Jeonghan had to laugh at that, blindsided by how cute that whole sentence was, and flicked his forehead. “Eat your food, Seokminnie,” he said. “Say hi to the band for me.”

 

Chan _was_ a baby. With his hair combed straight, tie knotted neat and uniform ironed, he looked like a toddler going to his first day of preschool despite being a senior in high school. Jeonghan had always been too lazy to move within hearing distance of him to actually talk so he watched Chan's brisk walk to school from the comfort of his air-conditioned second-floor lab. His impression from the disastrous night at the bar was reinforced: Chan was a serious kid.

Jeonghan crinkled his nose. 

Maybe it wasn't a good sign that he thought that he’d had enough of serious people for good, because even he knew, logically, that he and Seokmin couldn’t live off each other’s company forever. Waking up to see him sleep-talking nonsense and falling asleep only after he’d wished him good night: the happiness of these days had lulled him into thinking that they would be unending, that he and Seokmin were the only ones in their own little world.

His phone lit up with a text and he smiled, reflexively.

 **Theokminnie:** **  
** _Wake up, prettiest angel in the world Yoon Jeonghan!_

 **Me:** **  
** _Yah, what are these accusations you’re making against your hyung? I’m awake!_

 **Theokminnie:** ****  
_But were you working?_  
_No, right? You were daydreaming again._ _  
Hyung, what do you want for dinner?_

Jeonghan perked up.

 **Me:** **  
** _Oh? Does that mean a rock star will be dining at our apartment tonight?_

 **Theokminnie:** ****  
_It’s Thursday, remember?_ _  
_ _Jihoonie-hyung is sick so we’re all going home after the morning session._

 **Me:** **  
** _I thought you’d go out with Soonyoungie._

 **Theokminnie:** ****  
_Ah, hyung I know you didn’t bring it up to make me feel bad_  
_But I’m feeling really down :(_  
_Soonie said he was really tired so I told him to rest today._  
_Is it mean of me to be irritated?_ _  
_ _I feel like I haven’t seen him in weeks._

 **Me:** ****  
_Don’t pout_ _  
_ _Bring something delicious to eat and hyung will comfort you._

Jeonghan put his phone down before he could add something incriminating and considered the very real possibility that he was an idiot.

It was too easy to get caught up in Seokmin’s pace, Seokmin’s carefree and joyful way of living. Too easy to get pulled in to that kind of warmth. Sometimes, Jeonghan forgot that he was supposed to be the careful one and fell in, allowing himself to love Seokmin as unreservedly as he wanted.

Kwon Soonyoung didn’t know what he was missing.

Or maybe he did, Jeonghan thought, his mouth tightening as he watched Soonyoung lurking near the school gate. There was an itch in the back of his mind, like scraping fingers against wood, and he was furiously aware that this was the fifth time this week that this had happened.

He stood up without thinking.

“Are you going out, Jeonghan-ah?” someone from the back of the lab called.

“Just for a second,” he said, already pocketing his phone and slipping his lab coat off his shoulders. His skin was tight as a drum, his strides wide as he took the stairs three at a time.

He was in a state of slow-building anger. All of his senses were jammed, signals blocked. All he could do was ravel and unravel the thread of his realization, picking at the memory of Soonyoung waiting near the gates for Chan while Seokmin waited for him, endlessly. Even on days they didn’t have practice.

It was a two minute walk to the school, at the pace he was going. Jeonghan sidestepped the students pouring out of the gates, and their stares, and headed straight towards the cluster of trees where Soonyoung was quietly going through his phone.

He grabbed Soonyoung by the wrist, and said, in a cold, dry voice, “Funny I should run into you here, Soonyoung-ah.”

Soonyoung smiled. Like Seokmin, that was his default: the difference was the how badly Jeonghan’s blood curdled in the face of Soonyoung's. ”Oh, Jeonghan-hyung. It’s been a while. Is this your university?”

Jeonghan breathed out evenly. “It is. And this is Chan’s school right?” He quirked an eyebrow. “And you’re waiting for him to finish? Wow, what a great friend.”

Soonyoung had begun to suspect. His small eyes were narrow, jumping to each of Jeonghan’s features.

“And even coming on a day where you don’t have practice?” Jeonghan went on. His voice was rapidly losing its casual tone, heating up at the end. “Whoa, that’s almost boyfriend-like behavior.”

In a low, measured voice like he was trying not to get angry, Soonyoung said, “Seoku told me you were kind of invested in a lot of things, but this seriously, seriously is none of your business, hyung.”

“Speaking of Seokmin, do you know how much of a bother he is when he's going on about missing you?"

Soonyoung was a good actor; if he hadn’t been taken by surprise, Jeonghan himself might have been fooled into thinking that he really didn’t know. But Jeonghan knew all about fronts, and before Soonyoung broadcasted his surprise, Jeonghan caught the guilt that momentarily flashed across his features.

And really, how could he not know? Seokmin’s heart was on his sleeve for the world to see. Soonyoung walked into a room and he lit up. Soonyoung joked around with him, put his hand around his shoulders, and Seokmin glowed with happiness.

Maybe that was why this hurt worse than any secondhand heartbreak. Maybe, by being so open about how he felt, Seokmin had poured some of his guileless love into Jeonghan.

“So you do know,” Jeonghan said. Some of his cynical detachment had fled him; he sounded battered and exhausted. “You know, but you don’t tell him you don’t feel the same way.”

It’s not Soonyoung, but a younger voice that answered: “How could he?”

Clutching on to the straps of his backpack so hard his knuckles are white, Chan stepped into the scant space between Jeonghan and Soonyoung. Jeonghan hadn’t even realized he’d moved, swung his fist back in an arc in preparation.

Chan took another step in Jeonghan’s direction. He looked fierce and, under that, quite plainly scared.

“How could he?” he repeated. “Seokmin-hyung’s his best friend. They’ve been together their whole lives. He can’t just let go of all that.”

“Not their whole life,” Jeonghan pointed out. “They’ve been apart for the past two years. And I don’t know how he was before that, but aren’t you underestimating him too much? The Seokmin I know has too much love in his heart to let you go just because you’re in love with someone else.”

Chan flinched. 

 _That's right,_ Jeonghan thought through the roar in his ears,  _you know nothing._

“That’s not it,” Soonyoung said, quietly.

Jeonghan made a sound of pure frustration.

Soonyoung met his eye and there was a wealth of resignation written across his face. When he spoke, he sounded like he was almost singing: Jeonghan suddenly remembered a lullaby, sung every night in his ear as he drifted to sleep. Clouds and fishermen and monkeys. “That’s not it. My Seoku, he went through a lot of shit as a kid. If I turn away from him now, it might destroy him.” He smiled, a sad little thing. “You’ve seen it, hyung. How much he depends on others.”

Jeonghan tried not to be terrified. He gritted his teeth. 

Soonyoung himself seemed unaffected by the  _wrongness_ of talking about Seokmin like this. Jeonghan shivered and drew his cardigan closer around himself. His fury was fast melting into something close to sadness. 

_You know nothing._

“If you know him so well, how about believing in him for once?  I think you might be the weak one, Kwon Soonyoung, for always wanting him to follow you around.”

Before he left, Jeonghan looked straight at Chan. “If you can understand his feelings, even a little,” he said, “you’d let him know the truth.”

He only turned back once. He saw Soonyoung with his head bowed and Chan watching him leave, their hands held tightly together like they were weathering a storm.

 

Usually Seokmin was the one who initiated their conversations, which ranged from questions like  _Jeonghan how does this dishwasher work_ (Jeonghan didn’t know that one, and they had to call Kkulkyung the sassy homeware shop owner) to inanities like  _Hyung if you were a bear what kind of bear would you be._ Sometimes entire days passed without speaking, even the  _good night_ Seokmin mumbled out just before he went to his bedroom to sleep, which Jeonghan nagged him about the next day over breakfast, caring to tell him to take an umbrella to practice if the weather forecast was bad and to come home early for once. On the days he was too tired to reply, Seokmin just chewed on his rice and agreed sleepily to whatever Jeonghan said. It never lasted, though. He bounced back with vigor, drumming his fingers on the table with excess energy and singing at the top of his lungs in no time. He even has the audacity to laugh at Jeonghan for being exhausted after playing with him.

Not so now; terribly distracted, constantly running his fine-fingered hand through his dark hair, Seokmin was spiraling into sullen silences. It took prodding for him to even react to a joke, and even then he was just doing it because he was too nice not to. His heart wasn't in it. 

These days, as bothersome as it was, Jeonghan worried about Seokmin's heart a lot. 

Joshua sent Jeonghan a text, after three days of Seokmin moping around their apartment: _Seokmin-ah seems down lately,_ but Jeonghan didn’t need him to point it out. Jeonghan fended off his questions by pretending he was stumped, that he hadn’t noticed that Seokmin was shying away from the topic of Soonyoung more and more as the days passed. It was evident he had sensed something. Contrary to what Jeonghan liked to say, Seokmin wasn’t an idiot.

It was a Thursday night, and Jeonghan again couldn’t stop pacing, alone and barefoot and humming snippets of song he’d heard Seokmin sing around the house, imagining accompaniment of a rich, baritone voice. Anxiety crawled in his bloodstream like fire-ants. Thursday nights were off-days for the trainees; Seokmin and Soonyoung would be meeting today.

 _Call me if you need me_ , he texted Seokmin, without quite knowing why he sent it. Then he switched contacts and called Joshua over.

Jisoo, to his credit, didn’t complain much when he appeared at the door. “I’m supposed to be at dinner with my band mates right now,” he said mildly.

“Like you haven’t called me over on short notice before.”

“Maybe I just like seeing you flustered.”

Jeonghan rolled his eyes, and moved aside for Joshua to step in, giving him a wary side-eyed glance when he whistled. Joshua caught it and gave a thumbs-up, which only made him seem even _more_ foreign than he already was.

“You guys fixed it up pretty nice,” he said. “Where’d you get the table from?”

“That’s right, this is your first time here after we furnished it,” Jeonghan realized. He sprawled on the couch and very pointedly _didn’t_ offer Jisoo anything to drink, despite the very transparent throat-clearing he did. “Seoku and I fixed it up. There were instructions.”

“You mean you woke up and explained the instructions to him when he got stuck,” Jisoo said.

“Hey,” said Jeonghan. Maybe not the best move, considering how well Jisoo knew him. “He’s not that dumb.”

“Never said he was,” Joshua said mildly. He was definitely catching on. “I love the guy too. He’s like the little brother I’ve always wanted.”

Jeonghan busied himself tidying his hair. “Must be nice for you. For me, he’s just a loud flatmate.”

His head stuck in the fridge, Joshua snorted. “Just say you have a crush on him and go.”

“You think you’re so smart,” Jeonghan said, eyes narrowed.

“I’m not. Not as smart as you, anyway. But I do know you and I know that you can’t get this close to someone without catching feelings for them.” Joshua poured himself a cup of strawberry milk— _not_ in the special scotch glasses, which Jeonghan had set aside. “Come on, admit it. There’s no way you haven’t thought about it.”

“Obviously I have,” Jeonghan said, trying to sound dismissive. He found Joshua’s triumphant expression obnoxious, so he added, “He’s handsome, he’s kind, he’s funny and single. Everybody checks out guys like that.”

“You’re really transparent sometimes, Jeonghannie,” Joshua said, a smile in his voice. “Why haven’t you gone through with it, then? Because of your dumb rule about not dating friends?”

“You’ve met his friend Soonyoung?”

“Ah, right,” Joshua grimaced. “Hard to make a move on a guy who’s that obviously in love. I meet him on our weekly meetups and you’d think Soonyoung was a superhero, the way Seokmin-ah looks at him.” He shifts his weight from foot to foot consideringly. “Speaking of which, did you tell him that we’re friends? I didn’t get the chance to, that time you came to the bar.”

“Sure,” Jeonghan said, hating the idea of admitting to the events of that night. “Has he said anything, after that?”

“About you? Your name’s every second word out of his mouth, don’t worry. How much time do you two waste out near Han River, anyway? It’s always _when Jeonghannie-hyung and I were out at Han River we saw this, saw that.”_

“I like it,” Jeonghan said. Something in his chest tightened. “We’re close.”

Something in his tone must have alerted Jisoo; he looked up with a frown, and his probing eyes scanned Jeonghan’s expression. “Jeonghan,” he said, softly. He stopped, looked down at his cup, choosing his words. “Is something the matter?”

“No,” Jeonghan said immediately, a knee-jerk reaction. “I just said we’re close. It’s pretty unusual, you know, since we have literally nothing in common.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Jisoo said. “There’s something in the way you both treat people that’s pretty similar.”

Jeonghan thought about how well he and Seokmin fit together, and something rose in him, bittersweet like regret. It was so familiar that it felt like Jeonghan had spent his whole life fighting it down. “Perhaps the only thing we have in common is how much we want to be loved.” He threw his head back and laughed, feeling unfettered and wild. “If I ever lost him as a friend I don’t think I could handle it.”

Joshua laughed too; his was soft, and almost awed. “Jeonghan,” he said. “Are you scared of dating Seokmin because he might break up with you and not want to be friends? I know it’s the running theme of your life, but Seokmin-ah’s too kind for that. You know that, surely.”

And Jeonghan did. He had glimpsed Seokmin’s heart, pinned to his sleeve, and it had shined untainted like gold.

He put his face in his hands. “I’m scared he might not say yes in the first place,” he admitted to the floor. “No one—not even you—knew about the ugly sides of me before we started to date. No one I ever dated knew me as well as Seokmin does.”

“Look at you, Yoon Jeonghan,” said Joshua, in a tone of wonder. “You’re really upset about this, aren’t you? So you _can_ fall in love.”

His words were like a benediction: it fell over Jeonghan, unchangeable, resolute.

_Yah, Seokmin-ah. Being in love is the worst, right?_


	5. lucky charm

_How do I put it into words, what Soonyoung is to me? Simply, innocently calling him my best friend doesn’t fit when my feelings towards him are anything but._

_Were they ever simple? He’s always been the brilliant, glowing center of my life. We met at a park when I fell off a swing, crying over my scraped up knees. Over the years he became what I imagined a brother to be, a laughing, mercurial miracle of a boy who didn’t care that I didn’t have parents and let me win at video games._

_Like rivers leading to the sea, all my memories come back to Soonyoung. I told you once, Jeonghan, that I followed him to Seoul. The truth was I’d follow him anywhere._

_But after I met you the thought that I kept having was that I wanted to change, that I wanted grow up as fast as I could. I never knew why I felt that way, but it was probably because of Soonyoung. I was always uncertain, needing him to fuss over me. Always asking him,_ what should I do? _And I hated that. I think I always wanted to change it._ _So I wouldn’t just be clinging to you like I was to him. So I wouldn’t be worthless. I want to be someone you could take a walk along Han River with and tell your problems to._

_So wait for me for a while, won’t you hyung? I’m doing my best to be someone you can lean on._

 

“Jeonghannie-hyung,” said Seokmin, shaking his shoulder. “Jeonghannie-hyung, wake up. Eat something before you sleep.”

“Seokminnie?”

“Yes, it’s your Seokminnie,” Seokmin said, brushing some hair out of Jeonghan’s half-closed eyes. “No matter how tired you are, you can’t sleep in the living room, you know.”

“Mm,” Jeonghan mumbled. He pushed into a sitting position and knuckled at his eye like a child, and Seokmin’s heart leapt. “Did you have a nice time?”

Seokmin smiled. “Of course.”

“Was Soonyoung there?”

Needle-sharp grief stung Seokmin’s heart.

He pushed it aside and smiled. “No, didn’t see him. Come on, I brought you a burger. Eat it and let’s go to sleep.”

Jeonghan reached his arms towards him and it took Seokmin all his strength not to collapse into him then, bury his face in his chest and cry his heart out.

“Hyung,” he said, brushing his hand along the unguarded sweep of Jeonghan’s cheekbone. “Hyung, I might not be around for a while.”

Jeonghan’s sleep-dazed eyes focused on him for a second. The grip on his shirt grew vise-tight. “You said you wouldn’t leave.”

Seokmin tried to laugh. It left his throat in an airless rattle, choked with sadness. “Just for a while, hyung.”

He took Jeonghan’s warm weight and held him tight.

“Up we go,” he murmured, and tried to hold in all of it— his love, and the awful ache of his heart.

 

Soonyoung _had_ been at the bar. It had been weeks since Seokmin last saw him and it was somehow worse than when they hadn’t even lived in the same city. Maybe because, back then Seokmin wouldn’t have dreamt of Soonyoung avoiding him. Soonyoung who used to skip eating and drinking just so he could talk to Seokmin for longer.

If Seokmin was that kind of person, he’d think there was something in the air in Seoul that tainted the best preserved things of his childhood if Soonyoung, whom he adored, was going to such lengths to avoid him.

It was a very specific kind of sadness, of foreboding. Seokmin felt like a tube that had been squeezed flat, gulping down fear with every inhale, jittery in the worst ways. Beside him, Jihoon flicked him a frown out of the tail of his eye and Seokmin tried to smile.

“Crowded,” he explained, his leg juddering up and down. “It’s pretty hot in here, isn’t it, Jihoonie-hyung?”

Jihoon gave him a measured glance. “I’d say it was pretty normal for Seoul.”

Seokmin laughed, loud and fake. It attracted the attention of the other end of the table: Mingyu and Minghao looked up from their conversation with Soonyoung, eyebrows raised. Seokmin’s eyes caught on Soonyoung’s dark head, turned away, and felt his heart thick and lumpy in his throat.

He ducked his head and stared at the wood of the table.

“How long has this been going on,” he heard Wonwoo ask. He rubbed the back of Seokmin’s neck, brisk like he didn’t want to be caught doing it, affectionate. “Yah. I thought you and Soonyoung were a forever kind of couple.”

“They’re not a couple,” Jihoon said.

There was a silence. Jihoon cursed softly. “This is why we need Jisoo-hyung.”

Seokmin laughed again, and it sounded almost normal this time. “Pretty sure he’d disagree.”

“No no, it’s there in his contract,” Jihoon said, barely hiding his relief. “He’s in charge of all of our emotional stuff.”

“I’m in charge of jokes,” Wonwoo added, deadpan, and seemed disproportionately pleased when it made Seokmin snort.

“I think I better go,” Seokmin decided. He wasn’t doing anyone a favor by being a ball of misery, and he’d rather be miserable alone.

He thought, fleetingly, of Jeonghan: the way he hugged him in his sleep like he wanted to keep the world away from Seokmin.

“Are you heading out?” Mingyu called when Seokmin began gathering his things. “Wait up, we’ll come with you. Let me just say bye to Soonyoung.”

Seokmin looked around the table, realizing that Soonyoung was nowhere to be seen. It was the perfect opportunity to escape.

“Okay,” he croaked. “I’ll wait for you in the parking lot.” Without meeting anyone’s eyes, he said, “Good night everyone!”

Outside, the night got colder. Seokmin stood under a streetlight and curled further into his jacket, wishing he’d brought a scarf. Jeonghan had bought him from Hongdae just last week, bright yellow and fantastically warm. He’d sounded almost annoyed by it: _I wasn’t even planning on getting it,_ he’d said, his cute button nose crinkled. _It’s so_ loud _it reminded me of you._

Seokmin closed his eyes, breathed in, and thought of Jeonghan.

His gestures, his pretty face. The way he spoke like a kindergarten teacher, and how sweet his voice sounded the rare occasions Seokmin could coax him to sing. His smiles stretched his lips wide and when he laughed he showed his teeth and sometimes he came to sit at Seokmin’s side and stayed quiet and still, like he couldn’t think of an excuse to be close, and gave up.

When he re-opened his eyes, Chan was striding across the parking lot. He was shouting something.

And then Soonyoung was there, dark-haired and hamster-cheeked, the look in his eyes pure fear. He caught up with Chan in a second, and in the next, he was turning him around by the shoulder, his touch shockingly intimate, and then Chan was in Soonyoung’s arms.

Seokmin’s heart gave an almighty lurch. The noise that escaped him sounded fragile, almost confused, as his brain struggled to catch up with what he was seeing.

The couple in the parking lot jerked their heads towards him. Soonyoung’s face was frozen in an expression of perfect shock, eyes enormous and blank and horrified.

Seokmin needed to get _away._

“Seokmin-hyung, wait!” Chan shouted, voice a panicked screech. It hit Seokmin again, how tiny he was, as he stumbled on his own feet when he came towards Seokmin with both of his hands out.

Seokmin’s feet, turned away with a mind of their own, glued themselves to the parking lot.

“Hyung, you need to hear this,” Chan said on a rush of breath. “I’m so sorry. I—I’m so sorry, hyung.”

Seokmin stared at him dumbly for a few seconds. Then he looked at Soonyoung, who still looked like he had a gun pointed to his temple, waiting for the boom. His arms were still half-raised in front of him from when he’d been holding Chan close. He’d been _holding Chan close._

“What—since when—” Seokmin said, sounding lost to his own ears.

“For two months now,” Chan said fiercely. His hands came up again, like he was trying to calm Seokmin down. Seokmin _was_ calm. Seokmin hadn’t been calmer in his whole life, his heartbeat dangerously slow. He was just confused. “We’ve been going out for two months. We wanted to tell you.”

Soonyoung jerked to life with a small sound.

Chan didn’t look at him, ignored his distraught expression like he hadn’t seen. “Jeonghan-hyung asked us, and I agree. You should know about this. I don’t want to act like hyung and Soonyoung-hyung haven’t been best friends for your whole lives.”

Seokmin swallowed hard. “Jeonghannie-hyung knew?”

From across the parking lot, Seokmin saw how Soonyoung’s fingers curled into his palm. Dread clung to him like cellophane. One of them could get seriously hurt, here. “Jeonghan knowing matters more to you than me having a boyfriend?"

“What do you want from me, Soonyoung?” Seokmin burst out. “Do you want to say I’m happy for you? Congratulations, I hope you date happily, thanks for telling me even though it was two months too late,” but that couldn’t be right, because his throat was tight  and his eyes were wet and the words felt like they were ripped out of him, and he’d never heard Soonyoung get so mad at him before. "I don't know what Jeonghannie-hyung did to you for you to always be against him like this but at least he doesn't hide things from me."

Soonyoung made a pitiful noise, and Seokmin thought he might puke because he’d never seen Soonyoung sound that weak. “Yoon Jeonghan doesn’t know _anything_ about us,” Soonyoung said, and Seokmin’s heart broke. “What we mean to each other, what we’ve been through together.”

He paused. He was tired-eyed. Exhaustion leaked from his bones. Breaking hearts was not his bright, energetic Soonyoung’s forte.

“But he was right.”

Chan’s head snapped up, eyes wide and round.

And Soonyoung, well. It was impossible to list all the ways that Seokmin had seen Soonyoung. When they were kids he wore a million different disguises, a hero and a protecter, a winner of playfights and a kisser of bruises. As they grew up all those different people coalesced to form _Soonyoung,_ his laughing quicksilver best friend.

The smile he was wearing now didn’t suit the hero or the devil-may-care rogue of their childish escapades.

Soonyoung looked young, and tired, and defeated. For the first time in their lives, he seemed small.

“Jeonghan said that I was depending on you depending on me, and he was right. Fuck, Seoku, all my life I only had to look over my shoulder to see you, trailing behind me, thinking I hung up the stars one by one." One of Soonyoung's hands came out of his pockets and made an aborted movement, like he'd tried to pat Seokmin's head. Seokmin took half a step back. "I lecture you about growing up but I’m the one holding you back. Maybe it’s because I was so scared to see what kind of person I was without you. I was scared I wouldn’t really like that person.”

His hand came down and Chan’s hand was waiting to catch it, cover it and hold it tightly.

Soonyoung's lips quirked. It would have been nice to hold his face now, to wipe the sadness away from the trembling shape of his mouth, from his wet-dark eyes, and tell him that it would all be okay, but maybe the time for that had already passed. “Consider this our official breakup as whatever we were to each other, Seoku,” he said. “It’s time we both grew up.”

When Soonyoung smiled, Seokmin would overturn galaxies, rip out the foundations of the world itself to smile back. No matter what Soonyoung thought he had ended, that was an engraved fact.

“I hope you date happily, then,” he said to Chan and Soonyoung, smiling, and turned blindly away from both of them and strode off into the night.

 

Seokmin didn’t notice someone keeping pace with him till his feet had carried him all the way to his neighborhood. He turned his head and Mingyu waved awkwardly at him with a smile.

“Hey,” said Mingyu. His toothy smile was charming if uncertain, and Seokmin warmed at the sight of it. “You alright, Seokmin-ah?”

Seokmin kicked at a stone aimlessly. “You heard?”

Mingyu gave a self-conscious exhale. “I was there the whole time.”

“Ah really?” Seokmin didn’t know what to do with his hands. He put them in his pockets. “Where’s Hao?”

“He’s at home,” Mingyu said. “I didn’t tell him.”

“You should. He’ll be able to guess, anyway. It’s not like it’s not been a long time coming.”

He felt Mingyu side-eye him. “You knew?”

“I guessed,” he said, simply, though there was a difference between guessing and dreading. It was all his worst fears that always came true. “I’m not actually an idiot, you know.”

Without knowing, he’d been waiting for this for a while. Slowly saying goodbye to the Soonyoung he knew when he was growing up, because the Soonyoung in Seoul wasn’t the same person.

Seokmin threw his head back and stared at the moon. Again, that sensation of being on a cliff’s edge overtook him.

His hands curled into fists. “I should _never_ have come here,” he spat out.

Mingyu quietly waited him out, until the wild, desperate feeling passed through Seokmin, leaving him battered and a little numb.

“Soonyoung didn’t change, did he,” Seokmin said.

Mingyu shook his head. “Not especially.”

Seokmin nodded. He huddled into his coat.

The truth was that Seokmin liked playing dumb. He was no longer the innocent kid that could have kept waiting for Soonyoung forever, while expecting nothing in return. But he pretended to be.

“It was me who changed,” he said. “Your dongsaeng did grow up, Soonyoung.”

“It was a shitty way to find out.” Mingyu, when he glanced at him, was making a face like he’d bitten into a lemon. “Jeonghan should have told you, instead of manipulating the kid to come clean.”

Seokmin laughed, just a tired puff of air. “I get it, you’re not a fan of Jeonghan, Mingyu-yah.”

“I just wish you’d picked someone with a better personality to latch on to.”

Mingyu realized his mistake almost immediately. His hands flew up to cover his mouth, his eyes like round coins above his fingers. “I meant—I didn’t mean—”

Seokmin wanted to go to his apartment and sleep, but he suspected he was the kind of tired that sleep couldn’t fix. “I depended on Soonyoung before, and now I’m depending on Jeonghan to take care of me.”

Mingyu looked at him. “I might be wrong, but,” he said,  steadily, “there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Except I don’t want to,” Seokmin said, shuddering. “I’m sick of being a burden to the people I love. I want to live as a person, not a pet.”

“I think you’ve grown up a lot already,” Mingyu said. “You used to be a mess, always clinging on to Soonyoung and letting him make your decisions for you. Now it’s like you want to be around Jeonghan all the time instead.”

Tiredly, Seokmin mumbled, “You’re the smart one, Mingyu-yah. Why is that bad?”

“Because it might not be what Jeonghan wants, or what’s good for either of you. You both need separate lives.”

Seokmin’s shoulders collapsed. “I see. I see.”

Mingyu saw him off at the entrance. Seokmin could barely see where he was going, making his way up all four flights of stairs with the same loop of static stuck in his head.

When he ran into Joshua he almost didn’t recognize him.

His kind-eyed Jisoo-hyung, coming out of his apartment as Seokmin was coming in. It was shocking and almost _wrong_ to see him in this setting. Joshua belonged in the practice rooms or in their favorite bar, a song on his lips and his gentle hands strumming a guitar.

His pretty eyes widened when he saw Seokmin. Seokmin watched, unable to speak, as Joshua raised a finger to his lips.

“Shh,” he said. “He’s asleep.”

There was only one person he could have meant at that moment, but Seokmin still said, stupidly, “Jeonghannie-hyung?”

Joshua nodded. “We went to Han River earlier to take a walk. His stamina is really bad.”

“You guys know each other?”

Joshua looked surprised. “Jeonghan didn’t tell you?” He sighed. “What am I saying, of course he didn’t. He likes to pretend his trainee days didn’t exist.” The way he talked about Jeonghan was soft, fond, and achingly familiar; Seokmin talked about Soonyoung like that. “And yeah, we were friends. We used to date, a long time ago.”

Seokmin couldn’t read his expression when he added, “Ah, but not anymore, of course.”

“I see.” Seokmin gave a laugh. He wobbled on his feet; something light and fragile inside his chest shuddered apart. _What else,_ he thought. _What other lies did he tell me._

“Are you alright?”

Seokmin put a hand to his forehead. “Yeah. Yeah, hyung. It’s been a long night.”

 

_Jisoo-hyung, the Han River, pink scotch glasses full of strawberry milk: these days, those are the things that remind me of you  now._

_I didn't see you after that for a while. During the two weeks, I practiced extra hard so I'd be too busy to think, and didn't stop until I was absolutely exhausted. I did this to keep my mind off how lonely I was. Yet I always kept an ear open for your calls, trying desperately not to let you know something was wrong. From the way you stopped calling me so often, you must have been able to tell._

_It was April, and our debut was just two months away. I wasn't speaking to Soonyoung, and it seemed that you'd left me behind too._

 

Early next morning the band started their new training schedule. Jihoon gave him the choice and Seokmin opted for staying in the company dorms for the span of the weeks leading up to debut.

The days that followed ran on, with a few notable differences.

The band got busier, for one thing: their debut date was set and suddenly there were introductions to remember, meetings to attend, a whole volley of names and faces that Seokmin tried to keep track of and failed.

He didn’t go home, and he had an excuse: Jihoon, dismayed by Seokmin’s attention span, started keeping him behind in the practice room just to memorize the tiny details that kept running away from his brain. Every morning, he woke up in the practice room or in Jihoon’s apartment above his studio to Jihoon already humming and his phone ringing on the pillow beside his head. Jeonghan’s voice was as sweet as it always was, and sometimes Seokmin just said silly things so Jeonghan could call him a fool, and he can listen to it. Jeonghan didn’t ask why he wasn’t coming home. Jeonghan never pointed out that Seokmin was doing a shitty job of avoiding him since he was talking to him on the phone every day, and Seokmin was grateful. When the sun slanted in from the windows while Jeonghan’s voice sang into his ear, he snuggled into the blankets and let himself pretend he was still in their tiny apartment, their own little world. Jihoon was mostly tolerant of him – _just don’t bother me when I’m working—_ as long as he wasn’t too noisy and kept the cupboards well-stocked with snacks. He thought about Jeonghan constantly.

While he was working, he was gathering the courage to apologize. He tried to put it into song lyrics to express himself better but his sadness seemed too specific, so he scrapped the idea without further thought. Where to even start? _Jeonghannie-hyung, I’m sorry I left without explaining, and I wish you were here to tell me it was the right thing to do. I don’t know what I’m doing. I miss you so much it feels like they carved out the shape of you from the space inside my ribs. I just hope you’re doing as well as you tell me you are._

It was awkward to be around Joshua now. It was hard to understand why, when he wasn’t acting any different, but Seokmin felt like he was burning hot under his skin whenever he saw him, rotting from the inside with jealousy. The quick fix was to avoid him. A better one would be to ask him if he and Jeonghan were going out now (to ask, _was Jeonghan putting his life on hold for me)_ but Seokmin couldn’t muster that kind of detachment. The thought of Jeonghan —of Jeonghan _dating_ — was still a fresh wound on his chest.

His world had gained microscopic focus. His horizons didn’t stretch toward Han River anymore because he hardly left the company basement and for the same reasons, he hadn’t spoken to Mingyu and Minghao in weeks. He was aware of the effect it was having on him, on all of them. Seokmin was impressed by how they were all holding themselves in check out of respect.

Even when, one morning in the recording studio, he talked back a little too sharply to Jihoon, his hyungs only exchanged glances.

“You alright there, maknae?” Jihoon asked. His tone was light. “We’ve been doing stuck in the same routine for a fortnight. How bad is the cabin fever right about now?”

“Sorry,” Seokmin said, ducking his head. “And yeah, I, I think it’s pretty bad.”

Wonwoo swung his long legs around the back of a chair and sat down. “Guess it’s time for _feelings,”_ he said, and pinched Seokmin’s cheek when he smiled. “Yah. Not much use of a happy virus if we’re the ones cheering him up.”

“Sorry, I—”

“Don’t be,” Jihoon said brusquely. He was messing around on the child-sized melodica they’d got him as a joke, not even paying much attention, or so it seemed. “Even happy viruses have off days. We get it.”

“And it’s our job as the hyungs who depend on that happy virus to fix what’s bothering you,” Wonwoo said.

“Don’t talk about depending on me,” Seokmin’s voice cracked, making Wonwoo blink behind his glasses, taken aback. “Just—people have been saying it so much that I don’t even know what that word means anymore. About how I’m like a puppy looking for an owner.”

Jihoon laughed at that and Joshua glared. “Is that why you’ve been avoiding Jeonghan-ah?”

Seokmin looked at his feet, ashamed. He suddenly wished he could have the past fifteen minutes back, where Joshua was visibly baffled by his attitude and Seokmin himself was —well, he wasn't doing great, but at least he wasn't being confronted.

"We can go, if you want," Jihoon said, unexpectedly gentle. His large hand came to rest on Seokmin's head, warm and heavy. "You and Shua-hyung sort it out."

"No, hyung, it's—" Seokmin took a deep breath and turned to Joshua. "I have a track record of not being able to tell the difference between someone taking care of me and someone being in  charge of everything. I  just wanted to give Jeonghannie-hyung space to live his own life. Without having to think about me.”

“Figured,” Joshua replied. He was relentless. “But did you ask him if that was what he wanted? Or were you just _being considerate?_ You couldn’t possibly know what he wants. If you did, you wouldn’t be avoiding him.”

“But only till he gets tired of being my hyung,” Seokmin said, fighting the overlarge tears that welled up in his eyes, the warning burn in his nose. “I already had Soonyoung leave me, I don’t need Jeonghan deciding I’m no use to him either.”

Before Joshua could respond, Wonwoo said, quietly, “Seokmin-ah, rather than depending on Jeonghan, I think you might be in love with him.”

Jihoon gave him a startled look which Wonwoo returned with a shrug, before he began to nod thoughtfully. “What you described was totally different from a hyung-dongsaeng relationship.”

Seokmin looked at them both. “So what should I do?”

“You’re an adult, it’s up to you,” Joshua said, with a thump to his back. His eyes caught the lights weird; they looked like they were _sparkling._ “But I still suggest that you tell all of this to Jeonghannie.”

Confess, he meant. Throw it out like a message in a bottle, or something flung joyfully from a roof. And as much as the act of saying the words scared him —to  _Jeonghan,_ no less— he found that they were already fluttering in his ribcage, impatient to be set free. As if, while Seokmin wasn't looking, his feelings had grown a life of their own. 

And no matter what, Jeonghan would be kind. 

Deeply shaken, Seokmin said, "Can I be excused?" 

 

"Are you broke?" Minghao said, after they'd met at one of the overnight coffee shops downtown. "Did you overspend on music equipment again?" There was a fondness in his voice that belied his frown, maybe relief that Seokmin had reached out. Seokmin mused, guiltily, that is had been a while since he'd talked to him. 

It was four in the morning, and his eyes glittered with exhaustion. Seokmin had been awake for two days, a subtle shake in his hands that he couldn't still. Mingyu sat next to Minghao, sketching on napkins with a ballpoint pen, forehead lined with concentration. The other two didn't pay him any mind. 

"No, no, I'm good, I swear," Seokmin said. His leg bounced under the table. "I haven't even had time to go shopping."

"That's good to hear," Minghao said, at the same time that Mingyu piped up with, "Is it Jeonghan, then?"

Seokmin looked at them both, caught. "Yes, I guess? Jisoo-hyung told me they weren't dating."

"You knew that, though," Minghao said. "You told me he said they _used_ to go out."

His coffee arrived, steaming gently into his face and fogging up his colored glasses, which he set aside with a sigh. Mingyu pocketed them without looking up from his sketching and Minghao gave him a grateful half-smile. 

Watching them made the delirious tension under Seokmin's skin die down, a little. 

"It's not just Jisoo-hyung, it was anybody Jeonghannie would want to date," Seokmin said. "It was the idea of them that scares me. Anybody that would take him away from me. I guess I'm still a kid, that way."

"Not necessarily," Minghao said. "Even adults need someone to lean on sometimes. You're not this pathetic needy mess you seem to think you are. Yah, Picasso," elbowing Mingyu, "What do you think?"

Mingyu looked up with a pensive expression. "I think there's a big difference in how you used to act with Soonyoung and how you're acting now. I can't say for sure, but I think it might be because you're making your own decisions now. Wasn't it you that put distance between you and Jeonghan?"

Seokmin looked at him, stricken. "I just wanted to give him some space."

"Regardless," Mingyu said, rolling his massive shoulders, "you had your reasons and you did something that was hard for you. I don't think you'd ever have done that before."

"Wonwoo-hyung and Jihoonie-hyung think I'm in love with him," Seokmin said. He reached for one of Mingyu's art-napkins and played with it, not meeting their eyes.

When he spoke next, Mingyu, who never was one for subtlety, said, "Well yes. I thought that was obvious."

"But he knows what I'm like," Seokmin pressed. "He hates how stubborn I am and how loud I am and—"

"Let him decide that for himself," Mingyu said. "Don't you want to get it off your chest?"

Seokmin really, really wasn't the type to sit on secrets like this, and looking at Mingyu, he realized they all knew that. 

"Guess there's nothing to it," Seokmin said. It was a good thing he was sitting, else his legs might have given out. "It's the right thing to do, anyway."

"As usual, Kim Mingyu makes things more complicated than they need to be," Minghao said, holding his hand over the table. His eyes looked just like Joshua's did, like he knew something that Seokmin didn't, something that brought him joy. "Jeonghan makes you happy, yeah? So just go for it and see."

 

 _Ever since I was a child, I dreamed of falling in love._ _Maybe I wasn't really ready to be in love back then, when I was just a kid with stars in his eyes when I looked at Soonyoung._ _I_ _couldn't help wanting to be loved._

_But that night I couldn't help thinking: if I love you enough to let go of you like I did, maybe I was finally grown up?_

 

He walked all the way to Han River. The whole time, he felt his face pinching like he was about to cry, and stopped it, taking out his phone instead to tell Jeonghan that he was right all along, that Seokmin really was a fool. Seokmin was the biggest fool in the world, because he kept wanting things that he didn’t deserve and doing all the wrong things to get them. His head had started to pound, and the screen wasn’t that clear through his tears, so he probably ended up texting Jeonghan nonsense. It didn’t really matter. Jeonghan wouldn’t see it until next morning, and Seokmin would have lost courage by then anyway.  His legs gave out when he came to their old bench, and he sat down hard on it.

He listened to the river for a long time, closing his eyes. It was dark enough to be dangerous, even back in the small town he came from. He heard cars pass by on the road, headlights washing over where he was sitting, the thump of the bass of radios turned all the way up.

And then he could hear footsteps, and he turned around and caught Jeonghan in the act of appearing, like a shard of a dream or a happy memory.

Seokmin stared. He couldn’t help it.

Jeonghan was _in front of him._ He was smiling a little, and it was his nervous one, his filling-up-the-silence grin. His cheeks were a little hollow and his eyes were tired like he hadn’t been eating or sleeping well, but it was, recognizably, the same Jeonghannie-hyung that Seokmin adored.

Seokmin put his own hands in his pockets, wary. He didn’t know what to do with them.  

“Take a walk with me,” Jeonghan requested.

He took off before Seokmin could react, and without anything worthwhile to say, Seokmin followed.

It should have been easier to think, without Jeonghan’s eyes on him, but Seokmin found that his head was filled with meaningless static as he watched the sway of Jeonghan’s hair, streetlights drenching the side of his face. 

“You didn’t cut your hair,” he noted.

Jeonghan shrugged. “Didn’t want to seem like a widow.” He didn’t pause or even slow his stride.

Seokmin puzzled over this for a moment, then gave up. “Too bad. It would have looked good.”

This, finally, cracked Jeonghan’s composure. The look he gave Seokmin once he wheeled around was _furious_ , loud in a way none of Jeonghan’s expressions had been before. The sky was ripped apart above them, no moon, endless stars. 

Seokmin had _never_ seen Jeonghan this affected by anything.

“Hyung, what—”

“Forget it,” Jeonghan said, jerking his head away. A thread of high nervous tension ran through every one of his usually-graceful gestures, distorting them.

A shiver went up Seokmin’s back.

“Hyung, why are you wearing my coat?” He added, hastily, “Keep it, you get colder than me anyway,” when Jeonghan made to shrug it off.

“No reason,” Jeonghan said, blithe. He didn’t meet Seokmin’s eyes, and he began rubbing his hands together for warmth. “Come on, let’s keep walking.”

“No,” said Seokmin, surprising himself. He took a step forward with a confidence he didn’t feel. "Hyung, you know, Shua-hyung told me I've been dumb."

Genuine confusion scrawled itself across Jeonghan’s face, but it got him to stay still. “What does Jisoo have to do with anything?”

“I thought you wanted to date him,” Seokmin said plainly, and something like breathless relief fizzled in his stomach at the scoff Jeonghan gave. “I met him that night, coming out of our apartment, and I thought, you know—shh,” he said, when Jeonghan opened his mouth, “Shut up when someone’s confessing to you, Yoon Jeonghan.”

Jeonghan’s mouth snapped shut. His eyes were as wide as an open road, staggering, adrenaline plainly thrumming under his skin. 

Seokmin shifted, tangentially aware of his own immutable desire to kiss him, aware of the river at his back. He was so terrified he almost couldn't breathe. 

“I didn’t want you to think that I was holding you back. I didn’t want you to be awkward around me because you thought you were betraying me by dating someone else. I already went through with all that with Soonyoung, and I hate it. I don’t want you to think of me as some kid that latched on to you. I gave you space and everything, hyung, I just wanted to be grown up and be your equal for once.” His face was wet, his eyes stinging, and his nose was running because he couldn’t stop himself from crying anymore. It was awful; it was probably the worst confession that Jeonghan had received, and it made Seokmin cry harder, to think of how cool he’d wanted to seem, how perfect he’d wanted his confession to be.

“Ah, it’s ruined,” he wailed, batting away Jeonghan’s hands trying to wipe his eyes. “I wanted to do this well. Stop laughing at me.”

“I can’t help it, you’re so cute,” Jeonghan said, half-choking on his words himself. He had a flush splotched all over his face, red ears, and he looked absolutely overwhelmed. “You’re such a cute idiot. Whose fool are you?”

And it was probably because he felt so cold that he felt Jeonghan’s heat, the slight shake in Jeonghan’s hands as he wiped away Seokmin’s tears, first on his left cheek, then on his right, ending with his hands cupped warm and nervous around Seokmin’s face.

“What are you doing,” Seokmin whispered. But he knew what he was doing when he leaned in, waiting until Jeonghan finally covered his mouth with his, soft dry lips, so gentle that the pressure in Seokmin’s chest felt excessive, like there was a grape-sized bomb going off inside his ribs.

The final press of Jeonghan’s lips before he pulled away had Seokmin leaning in again, following before he could catch himself, kissing him again, just once, for good luck. His teeth ghosted across Jeonghan's lower lip. Jeonghan’s eyes were shining once he was done.

He buried himself in Seokmin’s jacket for a fierce hug. Confused but pleased, Seokmin put his arms around him and asked, “Jeonghannie-hyung?”

“You _idiot,”_ he whispered. “I was—I was so scared you hated me for keeping secrets from you, you’re the biggest fool I’ve ever seen. Why didn’t you tell me you were an orphan?”

“It wasn’t that important? I had my grandma and Minghao and Soonyoungie and Mingyu.”

Jeonghan said he was sorry, but Seokmin didn’t quite understand for what, and Jeonghan wrapped his arms around him tighter, daringly slid his hands under the material of Seokmin’s T-shirt and pressed cool palms on Seokmin’s skin. They stayed like that till the chill became unbearable, dawn sweeping in like a storm, and left the Han River with its reflections of innumerable stars and gentle tide behind and went home to their apartment. 

 

Jeonghan cut his hair the two hours before the band’s debut showcase, when all the world was an indrawn breath. “Luck Jeonghan,” he said, turning his gaze down, hiding his eyes, “but with short hair, instead. How is it?”

Seokmin parted his hair and looked at him. His heart rolled in his chest, massive. “Hyung, you’re so beautiful.”

Jeonghan avoided his eyes, cheeks pink. “Ah, this kid is really easy to impress,” he said. When he pressed a warm, dry kiss to Seokmin’s mouth, prying it open with his lips, and he made Seokmin eager to please like he’d always been around Jeonghan, meeting his tongue with his own and putting his arms around his shoulders, heartbeat racing in his ears and hoping that maybe Jeonghan was impressed as well. They hadn’t been doing this for long but maybe he was as perfect as anyone has ever been and it felt like this was all he needed in the world.

He could taste Jeonghan’s heartbeat in his mouth and his fingers clutching lightly in his hair, and they could have made out to the sound of guitars being tuned outside the dressing room till the end of the world. Or at least until the showcase, which didn’t feel any different.

“Ten minutes till the final rehearsal,” chimed the PA system.

Jeonghan laughed when he saw his expression. He skimmed his forearm all the way up Seokmin's side. “Yah, you look like you're about to die.”

He kept grinning, knees knocking into Seokmin's and his hand pushed into his hair, messing up the careful styling. He was shaking just as bad as Seokmin, the adrenaline weaving glittering patterns in his eyes. 

Seokmin looped his arms around him, slid his hands into Jeonghan's back pockets and kissed him again, hot and dirty and quick. "You look amazing."

"Five minutes," the system droned, and Seokmin flinched. Jeonghan laughed at him again like his own pupils weren't blown wide. "Don't be so nervous."

“Chin up, maknae,” said Joshua, who opened the door in time to catch the tail end of the conversation. He gave them a significant look each, urging them to part with his eyes.

Jeonghan stuck out his tongue. “Prude.”

Joshua gave a big sigh, looking unfairly maligned. He looked like that a lot, around Jeonghan. “I have a good reason.” He looked at Seokmin. “Seoku, you have guests.”

Soonyoung was slipping inside the room, tornado-like, side-stepping Joshua before he could finish speaking and coming straight to where Seokmin was standing, frozen, and grinning up at him.

Following him, at a more sedate pace, were Chan, Mingyu and Minghao.

“I was a dick to you, so I came here to prostrate myself and beg for mercy!” Soonyoung yelled, too loud, and from the hall next door a guitar string gave a warning, creaky _twang!_ like someone had unscrewed it wrong.

The unexpectedness of it –of Soonyoung, beaming and bright in front of him—startled a laugh out of Seokmin. “Soonie, you don’t have to do that.”

“I don’t know,” Jeonghan said at his side, and Soonyoung immediately flinched. Jeonghan’s voice was brittle like pure ice. “I think it wouldn’t hurt.”

Soonyoung started to lower himself, chastised, wrestling with Seokmin when he tried to stop him. Trapping him in a headlock, Seokmin grunted, “Why are you always like this.”

“I told you,” Soonyoung panted back. “I was a jerk. I treated you like a liability when you’re the kindest soul on the planet. Look, you’ve already forgiven me, right?”

Seokmin laugh-sobbed, tightening his hold on Soonyoung. “Of course I have.”

Soonyoung hung his head, still in the cage of Seokmin’s arms. “That makes what I did a thousand times more terrible.”

 _Small, Soonie-hyung wasn't supposed to ever feel this small._ His stance, the breadth of his shoulders, the unbelievable shadow of his that Seokmin had hidden in so gratefully, once. 

Soonyoung was just twenty years old. 

“Make it up to me,” Seokmin said, grabbing his shoulders.  “Stay and watch the showcase. Cheer for me, hyung.”

Something dark and enormous passed over Soonyoung’s face, blank, twisted, unrecognizable.

Then, like a storm, it broke, and his Soonyoungie was smiling at him with fierce joy in his eyes.

“Of course,” he said. “Like I’d do anything else when you debuted before me, punk.”

Relief and the outpouring of anxiety drained the strength from Seokmin’s legs. Soonyoung caught him in a hug, protective and warm, familiar.

When they pulled apart they were smiling.

“Touching,” Mingyu observed, in his usual can’t-read-the-room Mingyu way. Minghao was only a little better, his eyes flicking suggestively back and forth between Seokmin and Jeonghan, questions like pinpricks on Seokmin’s skin.

“Ah, but Jeonghannie-hyung looks really good with his new bobcut, doesn’t he, everyone,” Soonyoung said.

“It’s a good thing Seokmin-ah forgives so quickly,” Jeonghan said, still rigid, ungiving, not even bothering to fake nonchalance, “because I really don’t.”

“Ahaha, hyung, when you say it like that I’m actually too scared to sleep tonight.”

Jeonghan shrugged.

Seokmin made eye contact with Chan and they both looked away quickly, lips twitching. “Ah, but Seokmin-hyung’s really good at singing, I was surprised!” Chan said with a big grin in his voice. “I can’t wait to see the whole performance.”

Seokmin laughed along. He’d always liked the way Chan talked, like he was hosting a show about his own life, all big emotions and reactions. “How much are you looking forward to it, Chan-ssi?”

Chan’s eyes lit up further. “A whole lot, Seokmin-ssi!”

“Me too,” Seokmin said, suddenly feeling very brave, enormously confident. Jeonghan slipped his hand into his. “I think it’s going to go well.”

 

"Say the name, Diamond Edge! Hello, we're Diamond Edge!" 

The crowd cheered at deafening volume. 

Seokmin cleared his throat into the mic. The crowd pulsed, a huge and shapeless cloud of many colors.  "Good afternoon everyone! I’m the vocalist of Diamond Edge, Dokyeom,” he said, smiling at the audience. "Thank you so much for being here today. Diamond Edge will work hard today and always!”

Behind him, Wonwoo whooped.

“We’ve had a lot of support from everyone, so we’d like to thank everyone who helped us to stand on this stage today,” Seokmin continued. _Cheesy,_ Jeonghan mouthed from behind the curtains, and Seokmin grinned stupidly back at him, feeling like his heart might explode.

Then he took a deep breath.

“Let’s get it, moodmaker,” Joshua said.

The screaming intensified when he opened his eyes. “ARE YOU READY FOR THE SHOW?”

The stage felt like it was vibrating under the physical weight of Jihoon’s freestyle. Seokmin grinned in Jeonghan’s direction, bright and reckless, and he reflected it back, just as thrilled as Seokmin was.

It was just their debut. It was just their debut, and they were still a nothing little band not a lot of people have heard of, but Seokmin knew they’d be incredible, just as he knew that this is where he was supposed to be in the universe, in front of this crowd, in front of his friends, in front of Yoon Jeonghan.

The lights dimmed and Jihoon muttered, “For all the times they said we couldn’t.”

Seokmin looked at him, startled, and all three of them were smiling. It was appropriate, he thought.

The crowd bellowed, and Jihoon counted them in, and the concert, and the rest of their lives, lay in front of them in a gold-lit road, theirs for the taking.  

 

_That night, the concert hall was packed with people, but I saw them so clearly: Mingyu and Minghao, my best friends. Chan, who was once my rival in love. Soonyoung, who I will love and love and love till the day I die._

_And I saw you._

_There was such a big crowd that you could easily lose sight of the people you were with, but I could see you like you were right beside me. I could have reached out and held your hand._

_The hall was warm, heated inside and out. Maybe it would be warm out near Han River too, and we could play on the riverbank like we used to._

_Hey, hyung. I think summer's finally here._

**Author's Note:**

> Themes and structure based on the manga Nana. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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